Beyond the Vale
by BeyondTheStorm
Summary: Post S3. When a patrol goes missing under strange circumstances, Arthur is determined to find out what happened, and no one can persuade him otherwise. With nothing to go on but a foreboding story, Merlin fears that their luck might finally run out.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Well, for better or worse, I'm back :) My condition is relatively unchanged, but I'm persistent, and I got tired of not accomplishing anything. Plus, I've had the first two chapters of this written for half a year now, and I figured that since the plot for this fic wouldn't leave me alone, I should probably write it.  
>Oh, and the title will make more sense later, promise. I just like playing with words :)<p>

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language. Better safe than sorry, ne?  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, although I am sticking to cannon relationships, so there is just the tiniest little smidge of Arwen, but have no fear slash fans, for there is lots of Merlin and Arthur bromance, and it may be interpreted however you want. Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan will also be very present characters.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know.

I plan to update this weekly. The keyword is plan. I'm only halfway through chapter 4 at the moment, and given the unpredictable health of my right arm, I make no guarantees. I do find that having a schedule of sorts keeps me on task though, so updates should come regularly if all goes well.

This is both the prologue and chapter one, simply because I dislike posting them separately (messes up the numbering). Also, the tone for this fic will be more along the style I used in Healing Spells, subtle humor, POVs and all :)

There is another A/N at the end, cause I have a few more things to say, but I don't want this area to be too long, so without further adeau, onwards!

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

It was raining.

Honestly, there were probably about a hundred more important things to take note of and at least a hundred more to be worrying about, but for some reason that was the only thought that seemed to register. The sky above him was a mix of gray and blue, and the rain that was falling seemed almost bittersweet, a gift and a curse all at once. He wasn't sure why he thought that—even _knew _on some level that it was—only that he did. Given more time, he's sure he could figure it out.

Unfortunately, time probably wasn't something he had a lot of. That's the only other thing that seemed to really be registering even though he knew there were other things he should be thinking about, but it's not his fault that his head is a bit cloudy. There are a lot of things he can blame it on, but it's definitely not his fault.

After all, he hadn't wanted to come here in the first place.

He was pretty sure that trying to move would be pointless. He was cold and mostly numb and had been ever since he'd fallen, but that didn't keep him from trying anyway. It was no surprise whatsoever that he couldn't and that the only thing moving did was cause pain to shoot through his side, spreading through his whole body (which was only marginally better than being numb, because it was probably better to feel pain than to feel nothing at all). With it came a shock of awareness, and he was able to feel the cold stones under him, broken and weathered with grass growing through the cracks. He could feel the rain falling and the chill in the air, heavy with both the fading mist and undeniable _magic_.

He really wished his body would cooperate so that he could at least heave a well-deserved and put-upon sigh, because _really_…this wasn't even his fault, and yet he'd managed to end up in a situation like this anyway.

He had known from the beginning that coming here was a bad idea. Turns out "bad" had really been a horribly vast understatement. The past few days had proven that rather soundly. Why was it that no one ever listened to him? Actually, it was mostly just Arthur that never listened to him, but seeing as how the prince also tended to make most of the decisions amongst the lot of them, it would really be nice if the prat would take his opinions into consideration every once in a while instead of marching blindly onwards towards certain doom time and time again.

Really, why couldn't they have just stayed in Camelot where it was safe? This hadn't even been their problem to fix in the first place. It's not that he regretted the good that had come from their actions, but why did Arthur _always_ have to get involved in things like this, and why did _he_ always have to bear the consequences of his master's reckless actions?

It wasn't fair, but then again, he had long ago accepted the fact that his life just _wasn't_ fair and most likely never would be. It probably still wouldn't be fair even when Arthur became king and his secrets were no longer secret. Ten, twenty years down the road, he still didn't think his life would really be all that different.

That is…assuming that the crimson seeping into the cobles wasn't enough to rob him of it first.

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 1<strong>

"…I still don't think this is a good idea."

That, sadly, was an understatement. He thought this was a _terrible_ idea.

In fact, this was quite possibly the _worst_ idea Arthur had ever had, and that was saying something. It was just a pity that the prince didn't seem to share his point of view.

"So you keep saying," sighed Arthur as the two of them strode down the stairs and into the courtyard where five horses were being saddled (and the fact that Arthur hadn't ordered Merlin to do it was something he would usually be grateful for if not for the fact that he wished they weren't being saddled _at all_). The exasperated tone to the prince's words made it sound as if Merlin wouldn't stop expressing his opinion about how against this particular excursion he was. He was certain he had only said it a handful of times, maybe ten—twenty at the most—but that was only because Arthur kept ignoring his protests, and therefore he felt the need to keep repeating them.

And really, why was it that they always ended up in situations like this?

"Arthur, this is a _really_ bad idea." There probably weren't enough words in any language to describe just how horrible of an idea this was.

"I heard you the first time."

He seriously doubted that.

"Arthur…"

"Honestly, Merlin!"

The prince stopped and turned to face him, looking rather irritated, causing Merlin to stop as well. The warlock hoped that this would be his chance to talk his friend out of this ridiculous idea, because that's exactly what it was. It was also reckless, pointless, suicidal, not to mention dangerous…

"_Why_ are you so against this? And don't tell me 'because it's dangerous.' We both know we've been in far worse situations."

"But it _is_ dangerous."

"_Mer_lin…"

It was obvious that Arthur's patience was running thin (not that he'd had much to begin with), but Merlin wasn't even sure where to begin. He had a whole list of complaints and reasons about why they shouldn't go, so many that it was impossible to even pick one. Besides, most of them Arthur had already heard from one person or another, and the prince had simply chosen to ignore them or found ways of undermining them with reasons as to why he _should_ go. If Arthur had refused the advice of his advisors and his knights, then what hope did Merlin have of convincing him to stay in Camelot?

Sometimes he wanted to curse the fact that Arthur was too bloody noble for his own good. If only the prince hadn't sent a patrol into Cenred's kingdom, none of this would be happening, because then they wouldn't have gone missing, leaving only one very terrified messenger (the man who had been guiding them, one of the locals from a village they had stayed in) to explain what had happened.

He could actually trace the events even further back than that, but to do so would be pointless and he would likely end up having to place a great deal of the blame on himself. However, the immediate events that had brought about their current situation had started two months ago.

It had been exactly two months since they had reclaimed Camelot from Morgause and Morgana, two months filled with repairs to both the kingdom and the people. Arthur had been busy during that time with council meetings, training, going through reports, and the overall rebuilding of the city as well as the outlying villages. He had been fulfilling his duty as regent while his father recovered, because the people of Camelot needed someone to look to now more than ever.

Uther was still the king and still ultimately in charge of the kingdom, but his grief ran deep and his anguish was almost palpable at times. Morgana's betrayal had cut deeply into the king's mind. He spent most of his time in his chambers, battling the demons—both new and old—in his head and in his heart. Gaius and Arthur both believed that he would recover, and he was indeed getting better, but he still had a long way to go before he'd be able to rule without the constant help of the council, the knights, Gaius, and Arthur.

Merlin wanted to be angry with Uther, wanted to hate him for everything he had done over the years, to blame him for what happened with Morgana, but he couldn't. There was no anger, no hatred, just sorrow and sympathy as well as a sense of understanding. The betrayal had hurt them all, at different times and in different ways, and Merlin was just as guilty for what had happened as Uther was, perhaps even more so. The past couldn't be changed though. All they could do was pick up the pieces and do their best to move forward.

Two weeks after they had reclaimed Camelot, they learned that King Cenred had fallen and that his advisors had taken it upon themselves to appoint a regent until something more permanent could be decided (this information was being closely guarded—most of the people within Cenred's kingdom didn't even know the truth, didn't know that their king was dead). A convoy had been sent to Camelot, showing they meant no harm and desired peace between the two kingdoms, promising that the people of Camelot could cross the border if they so desired without fear of being attacked. It was obvious that they were desperate, and it was understandable seeing as how they no longer had a king or an army. Conquering their kingdom would be easy, and if they had approached Uther with their request, he likely would have denied them and set out to claim their land for himself.

Arthur, however, had agreed with their wishes and promised the same for their people, a decision that had shocked many but not those who truly knew the prince. Both sides had suffered after being manipulated by the two sorceresses, and Camelot was just as vulnerable. He had told them that the people shouldn't have to suffer because of the mistakes of their king. There had been enough needless bloodshed.

(And it was during moments like those that Merlin knew without a doubt that everything Kilgarrah had said about Arthur's destiny was true. One day he truly would be the greatest king that Camelot had ever known).

The convoy, needless to say, had been grateful, and in another moment of generosity, Arthur had offered to send a small patrol with them just to help maintain order near the border and to settle the people. It was obvious that part of his reason was simply to guarantee that the neighboring kingdom truly meant no harm, but most of it had to do with his genuine care for the people, even those not his own. That's simply the kind of person the prince was.

They had received word a few times about how the patrol was doing, showing they had no reason to doubt the words spoken by the convoy. All had been going well until two days ago when a messenger arrived in Camelot. The man had been acting as a guide for the patrol since he knew the land well, leading them to each village and acting as a mediator. After all that had occurred between the two kingdoms, it was no surprise that trust wasn't forthcoming and that the people were afraid. Part of the patrol's purpose had been to remedy that.

The guide had begged an audience with Arthur, looking nothing short of frantic, and so the prince had set everything up immediately, wanting to know what had happened to his men. That was where everything got rather complicated.

The man, Danigan, had explained how they had been staying in a village near the far border when the villagers began talking about a young man that had gone missing. The patrol had taken an interest in the story and chose to investigate despite the warnings against doing so. They had promised to return in three days, and after a week there had still been no sign of them.

Unfortunately, that happened to be a common occurrence in that part of the kingdom.

"_Everyone knows to stay away from the western border, sire. It is a story we all grew up with, passed on for generations. The land there is covered in a thick mist that never fades. It is said that beyond the mist lies a castle of some kind. A few have seen it from a distance as nothing more than a shadow, but they say it is most certainly a castle. Many foolish people have tried to reach it over the years only to become lost within the mist. I tried to warn your men, sire, but they would not listen. The castle is not meant to be found. Of all those who have tried…no one has ever returned, sire."_

Merlin really, _really_ hated stories like those, one of the reasons being that they always managed to spark interest in people like Arthur. The arrogant prat had taken it as a challenge instead of the warning that it should have been.

Needless to say everything had simply gone downhill from there, and _really_, what part of "no one has ever returned" translated into "well, Merlin, we have an old, mysterious, and clearly magical castle to find, so why are you just standing there when clearly you should be packing?" Consequently that also translated into "something terrible is going to happen just like it always does because no one can ever bother to listen to _common sense,_" which would eventually become "whose _bloody_ idea was this anyway," and oh, let's not forget "this is all your fault, Merlin!"

Brilliant.

He could just see how this would all play out, which was why the two of them were standing in the courtyard where the horses were being saddled while Merlin tried for what felt like the hundredth time to convince Arthur that this was a _horrible_ idea.

"You heard what that man said," began the warlock, trying to get the prince to see reason. "No one has ever returned."

"That's only superstitious nonsense, nothing more than a story."

"We don't know anything about the area or what could possibly be out there."

"Which is all the more reason to go and find out."

Merlin really wanted to point out the fact that this wasn't actually Camelot's problem seeing as how the obviously cursed area lay in Cenred's kingdom (technically it wasn't his kingdom anymore, but that certainly didn't change the fact that it wasn't theirs), but bringing that up before hadn't helped any and probably wouldn't help now either. In fact it had only made Arthur angry and even more determined.

"Then why not send another patrol? You don't have to be the one to go. You're needed here, Arthur."

Sadly, he already knew that argument wouldn't work either, but it was worth a try.

"My father no longer needs to be looked after constantly. He's getting better every day, and so I see no reason why the council and Gaius can't take care of Camelot while we're away. Leon and Percival will also be here to organize the patrols and oversee the kingdom's safety. I'm certain Camelot won't fall in the time that we're gone, so will you stop worrying and just finish the preparations already? We need to leave by midday, if not sooner."

"But…"

"That's an order, Merlin."

The warlock gave one last reproachful glare before turning around and heading towards Gaius' chambers, because clearly they were going regardless of how terrible of an idea this was. Honestly, he shouldn't have even bothered trying to convince Arthur to stay in Camelot. The prince hadn't left the city in two months and was anxious to go out and do something, even if that something clearly spelt certain doom for the lot of them. After all, even _Gwen_ hadn't been able to talk Arthur out of this. What hope did the rest of them have?

Of course it didn't help any that there were others who were all for this idea. As much as Merlin loved having his friends around, they really weren't helping him any, least of all Gwaine. This sort of adventure where the odds were entirely against them was right up his alley. Just like Arthur, Gwaine loved a good challenge, and so when the prince had said he'd take three men with him, the new knight had immediately volunteered to go along. He wasn't the only one though. Lancelot had also asked to go with, as had Elyan (and that had surprised him, but the former blacksmith liked traveling and apparently wanted to see more of Cenred's kingdom, plus he claimed that this simply felt right for some reason).

Merlin couldn't help but feel sorry for Gwen. She was going to be a nervous wreck while they were gone.

The warlock heaved a sigh as he pushed the door open and walked into Gaius' chambers where his guardian was sitting at the table pouring over yet another book. Ever since their departure had been announced, Gaius had been digging through every tome he could find that dealt with stories similar to the one they had been told (Merlin had spent every spare moment he could get trying to help the physician, including two nearly sleepless nights). So far he hadn't found anything other than what little information Danigan had already given them. It was understandable, really. After all, no one had ever returned. It was rather difficult to get information when no one ever came back to report it.

"Have you found anything?" he asked, peering over the physician's shoulder.

"I'm afraid not," Gaius said with a sigh, closing the book with a resounding thud. "I've checked everything I could think of, and I've no idea where else to look. I've only been able to find references similar to what we already know, but there's nothing about the castle and nothing that explains why the mist is even there."

And that more than anything else was why he was so apprehensive about going. Every time he and Arthur rode out somewhere to fight some magical beast, search for someone or something, or investigate a rumor, Gaius was always able to shed light on the situation. He always rode out with some semblance of knowledge about what they'd be facing, but this time that wasn't the case. Whereas Arthur always acted with less than adequate information (or false information), Merlin always had a good grasp on what was actually going on. To not have that kind of advantage was unsettling, and he couldn't help but wonder if this would be what finally did them all in. Their luck was bound to run out eventually, and he feared that that time was quickly approaching.

"So there's nothing at all?" he asked, trying not to sound too anxious despite the fact that he was inwardly panicking.

"No. I'm sorry, Merlin."

He was sorry too, sorry that this whole thing was even happening. He suddenly wished that things were back to the way they used to be, because even though Uther and his war against magic made Merlin's life difficult and somewhat terrifying at times, at least the king would have been able to stop Arthur. Despite sending his son on dangerous missions, Uther had enough sense not to get involved in something like this. Arthur apparently didn't, and even though Merlin wanted the prince to be different from his father, there _were_ exceptions.

As he continued to mentally complain about the situation, not to mention curse Arthur for his stubbornness, the door to Gaius' chambers opened and Gwen walked in. She looked worried, which was entirely understandable, but also rather determined as she walked up to them, and Merlin had a feeling he knew what she was about to say. With a growing sense of apprehension, he begged whoever was listening that just this once, he could be wrong.

"Merlin, please," she began, close to begging, "you need to talk to Arthur."

And there it went—his last shred of hope for getting out of this whole ridiculous situation. Amazing how just a single sentence can completely shatter one's dreams. He had been hoping that given one more chance, Gwen would finally be able to talk Arthur out of this crazy idea of his, because if there was anyone who stood a chance at talking Arthur out of (or into) something, it was Gwen, but alas…no matter how hard they tried to wear him down, the prince just wouldn't break.

"I already have," he said with a sigh, one that he knew sounded defeated. The warlock took a seat at the table, his whole body slumping onto the chair as he finally resigned himself to his fate. If Gwen was asking _him_ to talk to Arthur, then she had clearly given it her all, had made one last attempt to convince him to stay only for the prince to insist that this was necessary and that he was going no matter what. "He just won't listen."

"There must be something we can do. I know he wants to get out of the city for a while and that he's worried about the patrol, but there's too much at risk. Camelot can not afford to lose him."

Despite the desperation and the hopelessness that seemed to surround their latest problem, Merlin couldn't help but smile. Just as he knew that Arthur would be a great king, he was certain that Gwen would be a wonderful queen. She cared about the people, about Camelot, and she knew what was best for them, what they needed. She genuinely cared about everyone and always seemed to think with both her head and her heart, a feat that very few had mastered. She would keep Arthur balanced, keep him grounded, and would always remind him about what was important.

Someday Camelot would know true peace, of that he was certain…or at least he would have _liked_ to be certain, but given the nature of their latest mission, he wasn't entirely sure any of them would live that long.

"I've tried, Gwen," he said. "We all have, but nothing works. He won't listen to reason. We'll just have to hope that the stories aren't as bad as they seem and that the patrol simply got lost…or something."

He could tell that his attempt at easing her worries was failing miserably (he couldn't even ease his _own_ worries), but she offered him a smile nonetheless.

"I suppose there's no point in fretting about it," she said even though they both knew she still would. "No matter what he goes up against, Arthur always comes back. I'll simply have to believe that this time won't be any different."

Oh, if only it were that simple. That would certainly make his life a whole lot easier.

"Don't worry," he said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "I promise I'll bring him back in one piece. That reminds me…I need to finish packing. Arthur said we need to leave by midday."

The warlock got to his feet, and as he turned towards his room, he missed the smile—small though it was—slip right off Gwen's face, a somewhat confused frown taking its place.

"You're going as well?" she asked, stopping the warlock in his tracks. The concern was once again back in her voice, and when he turned around, he found that it was also written clearly on her face.

Apparently she had been under the impression that he wasn't going with this time. It was probably because he seemed so against the whole thing—he had certainly been very obvious about it the last two days. It's not like he really _wanted_ to go or anything, but for him it was never a matter of wanting. He _needed_ to, simple as that. If Arthur was going to ride off into danger, then he would follow him, because that's just how his destiny worked.

Plus, it's not like he had been given a choice in the matter anyway.

"Of course I'm going. I'm Arthur's servant. _Someone_ has to be there to take care of him, because believe me, he's rubbish at taking care of himself. Besides, I wasn't really given a choice whether I wanted to go or not. He just told me we were going and that I should start packing."

"But…Arthur said he would only take three people with him. Since Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan volunteered, I thought…"

Yes, that's what Merlin had thought too, and he had been both equally terrified and relieved at the prospect of not having to go. In the end he hadn't needed to make up his mind about it, because Arthur had told him to start making preparations and to be sure that he was ready to leave in two days.

For the most part no one had really been surprised that Arthur had asked for five horses to be prepared instead of just four, and apparently the palace kitchens had already been preparing enough rations for all of them without even needing to be told. That was simply the way things were. Wherever Arthur went, Merlin went with him. When Arthur said he would take three men, what he really meant was three men and Merlin. When Arthur was supposed to be riding out "alone," the alone actually meant "with Merlin." It was just automatically assumed that he would be going with, and he had yet to decide whether or not he should feel insulted by that. He had no idea if the reason why Arthur chose to publicly exclude him was because the prince had grown accustomed to having Merlin around and could no longer consider going off somewhere without him or if it was because Merlin simply wasn't important enough to be acknowledged.

He was rather hoping for the former but probably wouldn't be all that surprised if it turned out to be the latter. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised.

"Yes, well, apparently I don't count," he said, making sure that his words came out as nonchalant as possible, because he wasn't really bitter about it and the last thing he wanted was to cause Gwen any more trouble. "I mean, it's not like he ordered me to come with or anything, and I'd probably just follow him even if he told me not to, but it was more or less implied that I'd be going since Arthur always drags me along."

The frown on her face became more set and perhaps just a tiny bit angry and disappointed. He needed to say something fast, because the last thing he wanted was to get into an argument with her or for her to get into an argument with Arthur (because that wouldn't turn out well for anyone, certainly not for him).

"I'm sorry I didn't mention it earlier," he told her. "I thought you already knew, and I swear, Gwen, it's fine. I would have gone anyway."

"He should have at least asked. You deserve to have a choice."

"Gwen, really, it's alright. I don't mind."

"Well, I do. We're more than just servants, Merlin. You know that, and so does Arthur."

The warlock wasn't sure what to say. He was pretty sure that anything he said wouldn't be accepted. Gwen wasn't the type of person to hold back when she knew she was right, nor was she afraid to speak her mind, at least not anymore. He had a feeling that she'd be speaking to Arthur about all this before they left, and as much as he wished she wouldn't, he knew it was inevitable. There was no way she would let something like this go. He could see a rather serious scolding in the prince's near future.

He just hoped that Arthur wouldn't blame _him_ for it.

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><p><strong>AN:** Well, there you have it. Please tell me what you think. This chapter as well as the next are mostly for setting the stage, and although things might move a little bit slow at first, I plan to have a lot of fun with this.

Now, there are just a few things I wanted to say:

First, a quick thank you to all of you who read and reviewed Healing Spells. Thank you! You've no idea how happy you guys have made me. I have never gotten so many reviews for a final chapter of anything before, and everyone was so nice and supportive. Honestly, thank you, and to those who are waiting on the sidestory prequel thing, I'm sorry it's taking me so long. I still haven't entirely figured out how I want to go about doing it, as I don't want it to be too long, but at the same time I don't want to leave anything out. I will get it done eventually though. I haven't forgotten.

Second, to everyone who read Cast Me Gently into Morning...wow. I've nothing more to really say. I never expected the response I got, and I'm extremely grateful. That piece was the single most difficult thing I have ever written, for multiple reasons, and I think it's become one of the things I'm most proud of. I always go into everything I write terrified that I will fail spectacularly, but for the first time, you all really made me feel like this isn't just something I do. For once, I felt like I had really accomplished something great, so thank you for that :) Honestly, there aren't words for how thankful and completely blown away I still am.

Well, that's it for now. Less talking from me next time, I promise :) As always, please review if you feel so inclined, just no flames please. See you next week!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Hello again! I've not much to say today other than hurray for season 4! I'm so anxious for Saturday. Work is going to be torture, as I'll have to wait until I get home to watch it. The internet is a wonderful, wonderful thing, because if I had to wait until it aired here, I would probably go insane. I'm extremely impatient.

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language. Better safe than sorry, ne?  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, although I am sticking to cannon relationships, so there is just the tiniest little smidge of Arwen, but have no fear slash fans, for there is lots of Merlin and Arthur bromance, and it may be interpreted however you want. Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan will also be very present characters.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know.

I just wanted to say thank you to all who are reading and to those who reviewed. You all make me so happy :) I won't ask for reviews 'cause I'm personally a terrible reviewer (I've read hundreds of fics in this fandom and have only given a handful of reviews), but they do make me happy, and I love knowing what you all think.

**Disclaimer: **Forgot about this the last time, but I don't own Merlin. If I did, I certainly wouldn't be trying to sell stuff online to pay for a Kindle.

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><p>CHAPTER 2<p>

Arthur stood in the courtyard right below the stairs leading into the castle, watching as the last of their supplies was loaded onto the horses. They would be setting out shortly, so all the final preparations were being made. His knights were already packed and prepared for the trip ahead, all three of them out in the courtyard. They had all arrived right on time too, something that he more or less expected from Lancelot and Elyan but that came as a shock from Gwaine. The man was just as bad at being punctual as Merlin was.

Naturally, Merlin wasn't anywhere to be seen. His servant had yet to make an appearance even though Arthur had specifically told him to be ready by midday. However, it was to be expected, and the prince had grudgingly grown used to it. It's not that Merlin was constantly late, but it happened often enough that it couldn't exactly be considered normal or average (although perhaps for Merlin it was). The boy always had an excuse too, sometimes a poorly crafted one, but he usually just claimed to have woken up late or something like that. Half the time he was lying, and one day Arthur would call him on it just as soon as he figured out _why_ Merlin felt the need to lie about something so trivial.

In the grand scheme of things, Merlin and his tardiness didn't actually bother the prince that much (sometimes it even amused him, though he'd never admit it), but then there were the times where Merlin wouldn't show up _at all_. They were few and far between, but they were extremely irritating, mainly because the idiot always refused to explain himself—for being a terrible liar, Merlin was actually rather _good_ at dodging questions—and Arthur tended not to push for an answer as it took far too much effort, and in all honesty…sometimes he wasn't sure he _wanted_ to know.

Besides, no matter how long he disappeared for, Merlin always came back in the end. As long as it stayed that way, he didn't always need the details.

Shaking his head clear of his thoughts, he tried to focus on the task at hand and looked out across the courtyard, his eyes landing on his knights once more. As he watched their supplies being loaded onto the horses, he found that he wasn't at all surprised to see that Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan were helping. In fact, they were doing most of the work while the stableboys and servants simply double checked that everything was set. They tightened a few straps, adjusted others, all the while chatting to the three knights. That didn't really surprise him either, although it was certainly something new. Most servants were somewhat meek around the knights.

Of course, those three weren't exactly typical knights of Camelot. They had all been peasants, no fortune to their name. They weren't from noble families; they didn't own land or people or anything, really, and yet they were three of the finest men to ever carry the title of "knight of Camelot." Yes, they weren't of noble blood. Their lineage hadn't sworn allegiance to Camelot, hadn't promised loyalty to the royal family, but he was starting to think that maybe that didn't matter as much as he had once believed. None of them were serving him because of his station. They were loyal to _Arthur_, not the prince. They followed him by choice, not by duty, and for some reason that knowledge felt like it was worth so much more, that loyalty due to choice was something to be valued, to be grateful for.

He couldn't help but hope that one day all his knights would swear loyalty to him because of who he was, not what he was born as.

"Arthur."

The prince turned around to face the entrance to the castle, already knowing who he'd see coming down the stairs. He wanted to offer her a smile, but seeing as how her expression looked rather grave, she was likely about to say something that he didn't want to hear. She had already tried to convince him twice to forgo this trip and stay in Camelot, and both times he had had to disappoint her. It's not that he didn't understand or even that he disagreed with her reasoning. This was just something he needed to do.

"Guinevere," he greeted. He watched her look out into the courtyard where the horses were standing and couldn't help but notice the growing concern in her expression. When her eyes finally met his, he knew what she would say.

"Please, Arthur, you shouldn't go. This is too dangerous, even for you."

"I have to do this, Gwen."

"No, you don't."

Yes, he really did. Everyone, it seemed, kept getting the wrong idea about all of this. It was true that he was aching to get out of the castle and out of the city, but he could always fix that by going on a hunt or out for a ride. That wasn't why he was doing this. It wasn't even because of the challenge that this whole situation presented, because even though he loved a good challenge, that wasn't a good enough reason to place his life and the lives of his men in danger.

No, he was doing this for two reasons. The first was to find the missing patrol. He needed to find out what had happened to his men, because he wasn't about to abandon them. So many of his people had already been lost to one catastrophe or another, and he wasn't about to lose any more. If his men were still out there, still alive, then he would save them. They had volunteered for this task, and it was his duty to repay that loyalty. How could anyone expect him to do anything less?

The second reason was a bit more complicated. He was doing this for Cenred's people. He wanted to prove to them that Camelot was an ally, a friend. Even though the convoy had relayed his words and his promises, there was no better way to get his point across than to enter the kingdom himself. He wanted to prove to them that he had meant it, and that no matter what happened when his father finally reclaimed the throne (when, not if. He had to keep believing that), they could still have faith in him as the future king. They could still have faith in Camelot.

He wanted them to trust him, and he had come to realize that trust couldn't be demanded nor was it in any way his due. It had to be earned, and that more than any other reason was why he was doing this.

"Gwen," he began, making sure he had her complete attention. "It'll be alright. We'll be fine."

She still didn't look convinced, and it was obvious that she wanted to say something more on the matter, but she simply pursed her lips and said nothing. Instead her eyes were drawn to a point across the courtyard. Arthur glanced over and caught sight of Merlin—_finally_—making his way over to the horses, two bags slung over his shoulder and a third under his arm. He was clearly carrying more weight than he could competently handle, stumbling more so than walking, and he probably would have toppled over had Lancelot not mercifully relieved him of his burden.

He was about to make a comment about his servant's clumsiness as well as his constant habit of being late, but one look at Gwen's expression had him clamping his mouth firmly shut. That looked a lot like disappointment, and when she once more turned to face him, it was clear that she disapproved of something he had done.

Despite what some people said (some people being Merlin…and probably Gwaine), he was _not _thick or oblivious. He was well acquainted with that look (he couldn't help but feel that that was somehow rather unfortunate). He wasn't entirely sure what he had done, but he would probably find out shortly. Gwen had lost a great deal of her inhibitions when it came to speaking with him.

"You're taking Merlin?" she asked. It was voiced like a question, but there was something in her tone that told him she already knew the answer and wasn't particularly happy with it.

He just stared at her for a moment, slightly puzzled by the question.

"…Of course."

Really, the answer should have been obvious, but when her expression fell a little more in the face of his blunt response, he found himself at a bit of a loss.

Honestly, he didn't know what else to say. Of _course_ he was taking Merlin. He _always_ took Merlin. That was just the way things were. Whenever he rode out, Merlin followed him. Even on those few occasions where Arthur had specifically told him _not_ to, the idiot had _still_ followed him. He had realized at some point that telling Merlin to stay behind was pointless, because the boy clearly didn't know how to follow orders, so he had given up and instead began automatically including him. Besides, despite Merlin's incompetence, it was useful to have his servant around during long trips. Also (and only on pain of death would he ever admit it to anyone but himself), he enjoyed the company. It was an easy companionship, because Merlin was someone who always treated him like a person and not like a prince, and somewhere down the line he had grown accustomed to it…maybe even appreciated it.

So of course he was taking Merlin. To do otherwise had never even crossed his mind.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked, genuinely confused. Gwen had never questioned it before, so why was she doing so now?

"I just assumed he'd be staying here," she said. "He seemed to be against this idea, and you never said anything about taking him."

No, he hadn't, had he. After Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan had volunteered, he had simply told Merlin to start getting ready. He had never actually acknowledged the fact that Merlin would be going with, at least not publically. Even so, it seemed like everyone had already known. It was simply implied. That's just the way things were, and maybe, _just_ maybe, he had taken that fact for granted. Apparently not everyone had made the assumption.

"I'm sorry," he said, because it was indeed true that he hadn't informed her, and since she and Merlin were good friends, it was her right to know that he'd be leaving. "I thought you already knew. Merlin has a tendency to tag along even when I tell him not to, so I assumed it was obvious that he'd be going."

"Did you at least ask him if he wanted to?"

_Ask_ Merlin? That honestly hadn't occurred to him. There was no point in doing so, because even if Merlin didn't want to go—even if he thought the whole thing was stupid and risky and completely ridiculous, which he _did_—he'd probably just come with anyway. Despite all his worrying and all his attempts to talk the prince out of this, it was a well-known fact that Merlin was often just as reckless as the rest of them, perhaps even more so. He was a self-sacrificing idiot with no sense of self-preservation. Honestly, some of the things he did were actually borderline suicidal, like drinking poison meant for Arthur and then trying to do so again. He had even ridden out with him to face the dragon, something the prince hadn't expected and never would have ordered him to do. The idiot had even followed him to The Perilous Lands without bringing so much as a sword with him.

No matter how dangerous the situation was, Merlin would simply invite himself along, and so Arthur had given up on ordering or even asking him to come along or stay behind. It was a waste of time.

"No. Why would I need to?" Why even bother when he already knew the outcome?

"You should have asked him," she stated, clearly disappointed and perhaps a bit angry, which only served to irritate the prince. Somehow he got the feeling that Merlin was responsible for this somewhat confusing conversation. It almost sounded like Gwen was scolding him although she had her own way of doing it. That didn't change the fact that he found himself becoming exasperated.

"It's not like I ordered him to come, and even if I had, he would've told me if he didn't want to. And there's really no point in _asking_ him when I already know the answer. It'd be a waste of time. Besides, I shouldn't even need to ask him. He's my _servant_."

…It took Arthur precisely the amount of time it takes to blink for him to realize that he had just made a huge mistake. How those words had even managed to make it past his lips he didn't know, but what he _did_ know was that _that_ had been the completely wrong thing to say. Gwen's disapproving look had turned into a disapproving scowl, her expression both angry and hurt. He quickly tried to think of a way to mollify her as well as salvage the situation, but nothing was coming to him. Instead he found himself cursing Merlin for being able to cause him trouble without even having to be there, because this was clearly his fault. Of all the things he and Gwen could get into a disagreement about, it just had to be Merlin.

"Gwen…" he began, hoping to find some way of apologizing without actually having to take back what he had said. However, he didn't get the chance to say anything (and if past experience was anything to go by, perhaps he should be grateful for that) before she interrupted him.

"We're more than just servants, Arthur," she said, her voice firm but soft. It was a tone he had come to recognize as she tended to use it every time she felt the need to point something out to him.

"I…I know." And he did—honestly, he _did_—even if he sometimes didn't show it. Many of the people who had managed to get close to him were peasants, just common people who actually weren't that common at all. His newest (and some of his best) knights had all been peasants, and although Gwen technically wasn't a "servant" anymore (her mistress was gone and she was now the sister of a knight), she still saw herself as one and would likely continue to work as one if the opportunity presented itself. She saw no shame in it. If anything, she was proud of her background and her station.

The thing was, he found that it was easy for him to treat Gwen as a lady and not as a servant, and his knights were knights regardless of their background (it was as if they all spoke a common language, where things like sparring and hunting were great fun and where fighting was how one proved their character and their worth). Lineage and birthrights really didn't matter to him anymore…but with Merlin, it was different.

When it came down to it, the way he treated his servant didn't actually have much to do with the fact that Merlin was, indeed, a servant. Certainly that was part of it, but it actually had a lot to do with the fact that sometimes he just didn't know how to deal with him. The boy clearly wasn't made the same way as the knights (what worked with them very rarely worked with Merlin), and as much as Arthur teased him about it, Merlin wasn't actually a girl. He wasn't even really much of a servant either seeing as how he had never actually been subservient. In fact, his insolence only seemed to increase over the years.

No, Merlin was something else entirely, and he had yet to figure out exactly what that was, because nothing Arthur could come up with felt quite right. It was just easier to treat him like a servant, although he could admit that their master/servant relationship was anything but conventional (other servants were nowhere near as cheeky with their masters as Merlin was with him, and he was certain that most lords wouldn't stand for such impudence or find it the least bit amusing).

Though he was loath to admit it, Merlin was actually more than just a servant to him, but that didn't change the fact that he was still Arthur's servant and therefore was obligated to do whatever the prince told him to (even though Merlin had a tendency to disobey orders when he didn't agree with them). Technically he didn't have to _ask_ Merlin whether he wanted to do something or not. He didn't have to give him a choice, not with anything, even something as dangerous as this.

…But he probably should have.

If anything, it would have at least allowed him to avoid a confrontation like this.

"You should have at least asked," said Gwen, her anger abating until only a slight sense of disappointment remained. "He deserves to have a choice."

"I know," he said again, a bit stronger this time, more certain and less hesitant. He wasn't sure what else he could do or say to try and placate her, but apparently he had already done enough, because the upset look on her face disappeared, replaced once again with the worry she had been displaying earlier (something else he was now used to).

"Promise me you'll bring him back," she said. "Promise me that all of you will come back."

"I promise," he told her, because he couldn't do anything else in the face of such hopefulness and desperation. She needed to be reassured that they _would_ return, all of them, and he needed a reason to make sure it happened. He would do whatever it took to keep that promise.

Besides, he had no intentions of dying. He also didn't intend to let anyone else die. So far no matter what they went up against, they had come out more or less unscathed. Why should this time be any different?

"I'll see you when we return," he said with a soft smile, one that she managed to mirror. "Take care of Camelot for me while I'm gone."

"Of course. Just be careful, Arthur."

The prince simply nodded, and with one last heartfelt farewell, he turned and walked into the courtyard. The last of their bags had just been loaded onto the horses, all five of them ready for the trip that lay ahead. It was going to take them nearly four days to get there, and that was if they didn't run into too much trouble on the way.

"Is everything ready?" asked Arthur as he walked towards his horse. The stablehand who had been adjusting one last strap backed away and bowed to the prince.

"Yes, sire," the boy said. Arthur simply nodded in thanks before mounting effortlessly, ready to set out on what would probably be one of their longest trips yet.

"Remind me again," began Gwaine as he pulled himself up into the saddle, "why we aren't bringing Danigan? Having a guide would surely be useful."

"The man _walked_ all the way here," said Elyan. "He deserves some time to rest."

"Besides, it's not as if we need a guide," added Lancelot. "We've all been to Cenred's kingdom. It shouldn't prove difficult to reach the western border."

Oh, if only that could actually be the case. Arthur had yet to go on a quest where something didn't go drastically wrong (he had given up believing it would ever be otherwise after the spectacular mess their last trip had turned into). He and Merlin always ran into trouble no matter what they set out to do. Even simple hunting trips had managed to result in epic disasters. Nothing ever went right and nothing was ever easy. The only saving grace was that they always managed to make it out alive somehow. He could only hope that that outcome wouldn't change.

Perhaps that was another reason as to why he wanted to bring Merlin along. Despite everything that had ever gone wrong, the two of them were always able to pull through. Even though Merlin was often irritating and had a tendency to complain about almost everything, he wasn't useless. Sometimes he was actually downright helpful, through both his words and his actions. The boy wasn't actually a coward, no matter how often Arthur referred to him as such.

Of course he wouldn't exactly call Merlin brave either, even if on occasion that did seem to be the case. Reckless and self-sacrificing, yes, but not brave, because bravery involved things like going into a desperate situation _armed_ and _ready_ in order to protect what was important even if you were terrified and even if there didn't seem to be much hope of success. On the other hand, going into a desperate situation _without_ weapons or armor or any means of survival whatsoever and then occasionally treating oneself as a human shield was _not_ bravery. It was _stupidity_. They were extremely different concepts, and therefore Merlin _was not _brave (even though he technically was) and thus Arthur would not refer to him as such. It wouldn't do to compliment someone on their severe lack of self-preservation. It was best not to fuel that particular trait.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder, seeking out his servant. Merlin was the last one to mount his horse, and the prince watched as the boy pulled himself into the saddle, his shoulders slumping in what appeared to be defeat if the expression on his face was anything to go by. He looked miserable and sulky and perhaps a bit tired, his head bowed low in what would have been a sign of deference and submission from anyone other than Merlin.

With Gwen's words still ringing in his head, he found it rather hard not to notice how unhappy his servant was. The boy had been protesting nonstop ever since Arthur had announced that he'd be going, but it's not like Merlin had ever once actually told him that he didn't want to go. He hadn't asked to be left behind or complained about being forced to tag along. All of Merlin's complaints had been about Arthur going or about the fact that anyone was going at all. He clearly believed it was a stupid endeavor and completely pointless, but not once had he said anything along the lines of "why do I have to come" or "I don't want to."

However, what Gwen had said was the truth. Arthur had not once asked Merlin if he wanted to go nor had he given him a choice in the matter, and just by looking at him, it was rather obvious that this was the last thing he wanted to be doing.

Arthur would never admit it, at least not willingly, but he actually wanted Merlin to come with. He didn't want him to stay behind, even if it would be safer. It was a selfish thought, one that he was slightly ashamed of, because what did it say about him that he was willing to drag his defenseless servant into danger simply because he liked having him around? One day his luck was going to run out, and Merlin could very well end up paying the price for his selfishness. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to live with that, and so he needed to give the boy a choice. Even though Merlin had never stayed behind before, both volunteering and defying orders in order to follow along, he still deserved a choice.

"Merlin," he began without looking at the servant, not wanting him to see the slight traces of shame and indecision, most importantly the apprehension, on the prince's face. He waited a moment just to make sure he had Merlin's attention before forcing out what needed to be said. "If you truly don't want to go, you don't have to. You can stay here if you wish."

If he had been looking at Merlin, he would have seen the boy nearly fall off his horse, his whole body jerking upright in shock with a look of complete and utter disbelief on his face.

Merlin was completely gobsmacked. Of all the things Arthur could have said to him, that hadn't even crossed his mind. He wasn't entirely sure how to respond, his mouth opening and closing silently as he gaped at the prince who had yet to even glance back in his direction. Arthur seemed to be resolutely _not_ looking at him. Clearly the prince wasn't in his right mind, because if he were, he certainly would be making some patronizing comment about having finally rendered his servant speechless. Funny how Arthur _not_ acting like a prat was what had managed to accomplish such a feat.

Merlin couldn't help but stare at him in complete disbelief, and when he finally found his voice, he wasn't really that surprised to hear the exasperation.

"Wha—you're saying this _now_?" he asked incredulously. That finally got Arthur's attention, the prince turning his head back to look at the warlock. Clearly he hadn't been expecting that sort of reaction to his offer, his expression nothing short of surprised. Honestly, what had he been expecting? Merlin had gone out of his way to complain about the mission, had tried countless times to convince Arthur to stay in Camelot, and now that everything was packed and they were ready to set off, he was being offered the choice to stay behind?

Talk about awful timing, and he needed to amend his previous assumption that Arthur wasn't in his right mind, because clearly the prince had lost it entirely.

"Well, I'm sorry, _sire_," he began, clearly mocking his friend and trying to sound irritated even as he fought to keep an amused smile off his face, "but seeing as how I'm already here, I may as well go. Besides, I just finished packing, and I don't really fancy having to put it all back."

By the end of his tirade, he was grinning, and he could see an answering smirk on the prince's face. It was funny how a bit of sarcasm and amusement could convey so much, but he was happy that Arthur had understood. He appreciated the offer and the sentiment, but it wasn't necessary. It's not like the prince had ordered him to go, nor did he feel forced to do so, and therefore Arthur had no reason to feel guilty about it. Wherever the prince went, he would follow whether he was invited or not. That was simply how things worked.

That was how they would _always_ work.

"Alright then," said Arthur, turning his attention towards the road, his tone considerably lighter. "Let's go."

Without another word, the five of them began to head out, the horses breaking into a gallop as they reached the gate and stepped onto the road. All of them took one final look at the city, knowing that it could very well be their last and hoping with all they had for it to be otherwise.

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><p><strong>AN:** Well, that's all. Usually I would use this area as a review response place, but I was already able to respond to all your wonderful reviews. Oh, and if you do respond back to my responses, please don't take offense if I don't answer back. I'm a horrible conversationalist. But do feel free to say something if you want. I won't be bothered, promise :)

If you find any big errors, feel free to point them out. I added so much during this last read through that I don't know if I caught all of them or not.

Anyway, that's all for now. See you next week!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Hello again! Not much to say this time either, really. I did watch Saturday's episode though, and it was amazing! I won't say anything more, don't wanna spoil it for those who haven't seen it, but it really was wonderful. This season is shaping up to be one of my favorites, and we're only 2 episodes in!

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language. Better safe than sorry, ne?  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin.

So, for those of you who are familiar with my fics, you probably know that I never just write about one thing and that there's usually more than just the plot involved. I intend to do a lot of exploring with these characters, cause I rather love them all and the interesting dynamic to their relationships. Plus I have so many POVs to play with that I can't not explore them a bit :)

Anyway, here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy :)

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><p>CHAPTER 3<p>

By the end of the first day, after hours upon hours of riding, they had managed to reach a small village near the border. It was a quiet, modest little place, but it did have a tavern that doubled as an inn. After spending all day on horseback, all of them were looking forward to being able to sleep on something other than the forest floor. There was even a stable attached for the horses. It seemed that despite the village's size, the people were used to travelers passing through.

Indeed, it certainly was a stroke of luck, and Merlin couldn't help but wonder if the fact that he was just waiting for something to go horribly wrong meant that he was a pessimist or that he was just being realistic.

"Alright," began Arthur as he jumped down from his horse, the rest of them following suit, "Lancelot, Elyan, take care of the horses. Make sure the stablehands know to treat them well."

The two knights nodded and began leading the horses off to the stables.

"Gwaine," Arthur called out, turning towards the other knight, but it seemed that instead of standing next to the prince like he was supposed to have been, Gwaine was already halfway to the tavern. He turned at the mention of his name, a smile on his face.

"Oh, don't mind me," he said in that offhanded way of his that often aggravated Arthur to no end. "I'm just going to sit down for a while, maybe have a drink. It has been a long day, after all."

"_Gwaine_…" he tried again, practically growling due to his irritation with the man, but the knight wasn't quite done talking yet, cutting the prince off before he could even try to give any orders.

"I'm sure you can handle making the arrangements on your own, princess," he said, his grin dripping with amusement and his voice tainted by his own special brand of sarcasm. "I have complete faith in you."

Before Arthur could get out another word, Gwaine disappeared into the tavern, leaving the prince standing outside, staring after him in disbelief and indignation. He heard someone trying to stifle their snickering from behind him and turned around to find Merlin still standing there, fighting back a grin and failing miserably. Arthur tried to glare at him, but like most of the other times he tried to intimidate his servant, his glare had the opposite effect. Instead of looking chastised or sorry, Merlin's grin only got wider. Clearly he found the whole thing highly amusing.

"Shut up, Merlin," he snapped before turning back towards the tavern and heading for the door.

"Wha—I didn't _say_ anything!" came Merlin's retort as he ran a few steps to catch up with the prince until they were walking side by side, much the way they often did. It was strange how something so unorthodox and unconventional no longer bothered him. Before Merlin, all his servants had always walked behind him, had always kept the appropriate amount of space between themselves and their prince. In the beginning, Merlin had done much the same, but at some point he had either forgotten or stopped caring that there was supposed to be a distance between them, and Arthur had simply let him without even really thinking about it. It was just how they were. There was no real logic or conscious effort behind it at all, and although he would never admit it or even acknowledge it—not even to himself—Arthur liked things the way they were.

He liked being treated as an equal.

When he reached the tavern, Arthur pushed open the door and was instantly bombarded by raucous voices and laughter as well as the strong smell of mead and ale. It was late in the evening, and the men of the village were all unwinding after a hard day's work, talking and guffawing as the drinks flowed freely. He spotted Gwaine already sporting his own tankard and striking up a conversation with some of the other patrons. Arthur could only hope that the man had learned his lesson and wouldn't find a way to start yet another brawl.

Although, when he really thought about it, he could sort of admit that _maybe_ that very first one all those months ago hadn't actually been Gwaine's fault. He may have thrown the first punch, but in reality it was Arthur who had started the initial confrontation (with good reason, of course), and Merlin, like always, had only made the situation worse with that smart mouth of his. No surprise there, really. Merlin wasn't exactly known for keeping his mouth shut (and if Arthur was secretly just a little bit fond, if not grateful, of that fact, well…no one really needed to know. It was probably something he best kept to himself).

As it turned out, procuring rooms wasn't really that difficult. He took care of it easily enough on his own, although he had been tempted to not get one for Gwaine just to teach the knight a lesson, but in the end he had decided against it. After all, knowing Gwaine he would find some way to avoid having to sleep on the floor (or in the stables). Also, knowing both Merlin and Lancelot as well as he did, the prince was pretty sure that one of them would be willing to give up their bed and sleep on the floor instead, and that just wouldn't do. First off, Lancelot hadn't done anything to annoy him, and so he didn't deserve that kind of punishment, and Merlin…

Well, Merlin kind of looked like he hadn't slept well in days—weeks, even—and so there was no way he was going to be sleeping on anything other than a bed. It's not that Arthur particularly cared, mind you, because that would just be _ridiculous_, but a lot of people liked Merlin, and he would likely never hear the end of it if the boy were to collapse due to exhaustion (because it _would_ be blamed on him somehow even if it was really Merlin's own fault for not sleeping). The last thing he wanted was to be chewed out by Gwen again, and he would be if something were to happen to Merlin.

So in the interest of keeping everyone happy and well rested, he got enough rooms (with enough beds) for all of them. They could figure out sleeping arrangements later though. He had more important things to do right now, like sitting down with a tankard of mead—all in the interest of keeping an eye on Gwaine, of course.

"Merlin," he called, catching the boy's attention. "Head to the stables and grab our stuff, will you."

He doesn't know why he was expecting Merlin to just do what he asked without complaining for a change, but he figured that the exasperated sounding huff really shouldn't have come as such a surprise considering how well he knew his servant.

"Couldn't you have asked me to do that earlier?" Merlin asked. "Like when we were actually _near_ the stables?"

"Don't be such a girl, Merlin. It's not that far."

"Oh? Then why not come and fetch your own bags like everyone else?"

"Because you're my servant, _Mer_lin, and therefore it's part of your job. Besides, I've more important things to do."

"Like what?"

"Like…" He was going to say something like "gathering information" or "strategic planning" even though he really meant "relaxing with a tankard of mead," but he knew that neither answer would be believed (not that Merlin had any right to question him, although that never really stopped the boy). However, as it turned out, Gwaine ended up providing him with a legitimate excuse.

That accursed drunkard was trying to get himself involved in a game of dice, one that obviously involved gambling if the stacks of coins were anything to go by.

Arthur clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing angrily. Honestly, couldn't Gwaine go one day without giving his prince a headache?

"Like keeping Gwaine from _losing_ _all our_ _money_," he growled out. Honestly, that man was going to get them all into trouble if someone didn't do something and soon, and seeing as how there wasn't anyone else, it looked like Arthur was going to have to be that someone.

As the prince went stomping off after his wayward knight, Merlin simply heaved a long-suffering sigh and walked back towards the door, heading out into the cool night. The sun had just disappeared beyond the horizon, but there was plenty of light from both the moon and the candles in the tavern. The warlock managed to reach the stables without incident and saw that Lancelot and Elyan were just finishing up with the horses and grabbing their packs as well as Gwaine's since he hadn't bothered to grab it before heading into the tavern.

Merlin walked over to his and Arthur's horses and began removing their bags. It didn't take long for him to realize he wouldn't be able to carry all of them alone, at least not safely. He really didn't want to make multiple trips; just one would likely do him in. He was exhausted and everything felt sore after being on a horse all day. All he wanted was to fall into bed and get as much sleep as he could before the nightmares caught up with him again, a product of all the anxiety and worry he had been putting up with as of late (two nights ago, after having been woken up by one, he had thrown himself completely into helping Gaius figure out what they were heading into. The fact that they had failed certainly hadn't helped his anxiety any). It had been bad enough during the whole debacle with Morgana, but at least then he had known what they were walking into.

This time they'd be going in completely blind.

When the final bag was sitting on the ground, he couldn't help but look at them all despairingly. He really didn't want to haul all of them up to their rooms, and he really didn't want to have to make three trips either. Thankfully he didn't have to worry about it for too long as it seemed his plight had been noticed by the two knights still lingering nearby.

"Merlin," called Elyan, easily earning the warlock's attention. "Were the arrangements made?"

"Yeah. Arthur was able to get us two rooms for the night, with enough beds for us all."

"Alright. I'll haul this stuff up then since I doubt Gwaine will be coming for it. Knowing him, he's probably deep in his cups by now."

Merlin couldn't help but smile at that. Gwaine's love for taverns was a well known fact amongst the knights (and probably the rest of Camelot too), and strangely enough it was actually far more amusing than it was a hindrance. They all had their quirks, after all.

He watched as Elyan shouldered both his supplies and Gwaine's before trudging out of the stables and then began the long, arduous task of collecting his bags and Arthur's. It wasn't long before he was joined by Lancelot. The warlock had originally assumed that he would follow after Elyan, but it seemed his friend had other ideas. Honestly, he really shouldn't have been surprised. They hadn't had a chance to talk much recently, and he knew that the knight would have a few questions for him.

Merlin couldn't help but smile at the thought. It was nice having someone to talk to without having to watch his words.

…Without having to _lie_.

"You look like you could use some help," said Lancelot, and even though it wasn't stated as an offer, that's exactly what it was.

"I'd certainly appreciate some," he said while lifting up two of the bags, the other three still lying on the floor. It's not like they really needed their supplies right now, but it wasn't exactly safe to just leave all of it in the stables, completely unguarded. Thieves and other less than honorable people could be lurking in just about any corner, and given the nature of their quest and the length of time that they'd be gone, they really couldn't afford for all their stuff to be stolen (literally, because Arthur wasn't dragging an entire chest full of coins across the kingdom with him).

He stood there a moment, adjusting the weight of his burden as Lancelot bent down and grabbed two of the bags. His own pack was slung over one shoulder, and he was easily able to hoist the other two over it as well. Before Merlin could even think of grabbing the last bag, the knight was scooping that one up as well. The warlock wanted to complain, to insist that he was perfectly capable of carrying another (it wasn't fair to make Lancelot carry four while he only had two), but the knight didn't give him a chance to even open his mouth. His friend's expression shifted into something grave and knowing, and Merlin found that he couldn't bring himself to say anything. Now wasn't the time for being indignant.

"Were you able to find anything?" Lancelot asked, his voice quiet as if he feared that someone might overhear. Merlin could only sigh in response, already knowing what he was asking despite the vagueness of his question.

"No," he said, his shoulders slumping in dismay. "Gaius and I looked in every book we could find, but there was nothing. The only information we found was what Danigan had already told us."

"Does it have anything to do with magic?"

"Probably, but I have no idea what kind of spell it might be or what it's for."

"So we're going in blind."

"…Apparently," he sighed, watching as a resigned and slightly downhearted look crossed his friend's face. He felt a slight stab of guilt knowing that he was the one responsible for it.

He _really_ hated this whole situation. He was pretty sure they all did to some extent.

"Sorry," he quickly added, because the look on his friend's face kind of made him feel like he had let the man down. It was a rare thing for someone to be counting on him so openly. Lancelot was one of the few people who knew about him, who could understand, and it almost felt like he had been kicked in the stomach to see his friend's anticipation fade to something less hopeful and more concerned.

Lancelot, for his part, looked rather surprised at the apology.

"You've nothing to apologize for," he said earnestly, a small smile spreading across his face. There was nothing false or placating about it. He wasn't just saying it to make Merlin feel better; he genuinely believed it, which was just one more thing that the warlock rather liked about the knight. His words were always spoken honestly. There was no underlying meaning unless there needed to be. He actually meant the things he said (unlike a certain prince).

Merlin couldn't help but smile back, feeling better than he had all day. It was amazing how just a few kind words could bolster his mood even though he knew that it wouldn't last. Just for a little while though, he could let himself feel content. After all, there was nothing that could be done at the moment, so worrying about it wouldn't help any. It was a problem for the morning.

The two of them left the stables and made their way back to the tavern. When they walked in, the sight that greeted them was a rather amusing one (and thankfully not the one that Merlin had kind of been expecting, because in all honesty, the combination of Gwaine and taverns had a tendency to result in disaster). Sitting at one of the tables were Arthur, Gwaine, and Elyan, the former two locked in what looked like an arm wrestling match while Elyan smiled over the rim of his tankard, clearly laughing at them even if he wasn't doing so aloud.

Ignoring them for now, Merlin led Lancelot up the stairs and towards the two rooms that Arthur had secured. One had two small beds, the other three (it was a bit cramped, but it would serve its purpose). Merlin simply walked into the room with just the two beds and dropped his bags on the floor before flopping down onto the bed next to the window. He knew he would have to get up and head back downstairs, but all he really wanted was to just close his eyes and sleep. Behind him he could hear Lancelot setting down the rest of Arthur's supplies and being far more careful with it than Merlin had.

The warlock meant to get up—really, he did—but the bed was just so nice and lying down felt so good, and his mind was starting to wander off. Maybe he could just rest for a few minutes. Surely Arthur and the knights could take care of themselves for just a little while…

When Lancelot finally finished setting down his load, having moved all of the bags into a corner of the room where no one would accidentally trip over them (Merlin had seen fit to simply dump his right in the doorway), the knight looked up at his companion, another question already rolling off his tongue.

"Merlin, do you think…?"

He paused, taking in the sight that greeted him. A slow, fond smile stretched across his face as he saw the warlock sprawled across one of the beds, eyes closed and sound asleep. He had known that the boy was beyond tired, but he must have truly been exhausted to have fallen asleep so quickly.

Making as little noise as possible, Lancelot backed out of the room and closed the door behind him. He had no intentions of disturbing his friend's much needed slumber. For one night at least, Arthur could take care of himself. And if the prince complained, he knew that he could rely on Gwaine to give him hell for it. The rogue never had any qualms about teasing his prince mercilessly whenever Arthur acted like a pampered royal. Hopefully that would be enough to deter him from rousing Merlin. The boy needed as much sleep as he could get.

With nothing else to do, Lancelot made his way back down the stairs and into the tavern. He quickly purchased his own tankard and made his way over to his companions. He was rather amused to see that Arthur and Gwaine were _still_ at it. Whether they were still going from the first time or if this was a rematch he didn't know, but both options were equally entertaining prospects.

He certainly was surrounded by stubborn people, each in their own right.

When he took his seat at the table, it was Elyan who noticed him first. The other knight was smiling, obviously finding the situation just as entertaining.

"Has either of them won yet?" Lancelot asked, keeping his voice low so that neither Arthur nor Gwaine would overhear.

"Not yet," said Elyan, his voice just as low, "but I imagine one of them will soon. They've been at it for a while now."

Lancelot was about to ask why the two of them were arm wrestling, but he got the feeling he already knew the answer. After all, Gwaine liked to challenge people to contests like this, but seeing as how Arthur wasn't likely to allow the man to gamble away all their money, the knight had probably decided on challenging Arthur instead. Despite all his pride and arrogance (or maybe because of it), the prince was actually really easy to goad if you knew how to do it. Unfortunately, Gwaine happened to be well-versed in that respect.

He watched the two of them for a while longer, taking a few sips of his ale, before he noticed Elyan glancing towards the staircase and then around the room, clearly looking for something. When he apparently couldn't find what he was looking for, he turned to Lancelot for an answer.

"Where's Merlin?" he asked. "I thought he'd be down here by now."

"I don't think he'll be joining us tonight. He practically collapsed onto one of the beds and was asleep before I could ask if he wanted to join us. I figured it was best to just let him sleep."

"He did seem rather tired earlier…"

"I fear he hasn't been sleeping well," said Lancelot, staring down into his tankard, unaware that his and Elyan's conversation had drawn the interest of their other companions. "…And I don't think he slept at all last night, or the night before. Anyone would be exhausted."

_That_ quickly got Arthur's attention.

"What?" he nearly yelled, clearly surprised, and in his moment of distraction, Gwaine quickly slammed his arm down onto the table. He couldn't help but grin triumphantly at the look of shear disbelief on the prince's face as he looked down at their arms. The knight quickly pulled his away before throwing it into the air in victory.

"Ha! Finally!" he exclaimed, enjoying the look of outrage that greeted him.

"That was cheating!" yelled Arthur.

"No, that was me _winning_."

"Yes, because you _cheated_!"

"You call it cheating. I call it taking advantage of an opening. It's called strategy, princess, but semantics aside, it doesn't change the fact that I won."

"Strategy? You wouldn't know strategy if it…!"

"Now, now, I think that's enough you two," said Elyan, trying to placate the very angry prince before he drew too much attention to their little group. Besides, he was more interested in what Lancelot had to say than in listening to Gwaine and Arthur squabble. "So, what was that about Merlin not sleeping?"

All eyes were suddenly on Lancelot, and despite the attention he was receiving, he didn't appear to be all that nervous. The unsettled look on his face seemed to stem more so from worry than nerves.

"When I went to see Gaius this morning, I noticed that his chambers as well as Merlin's were covered in books. Merlin wasn't there at the time, but I asked Gaius about them. He said that he was up most of the night looking for more information on the story that Danigan told us. He also said that Merlin had been helping him, and even though Gaius had managed to get a few hours of sleep, he was certain that Merlin hadn't. He also said that they had spent the previous night doing much the same."

There was more he could say, but he wasn't going to. There was more to the story than that, but it wouldn't be fair to Merlin if he revealed anything else. They didn't need to know about the nightmares, about how the warlock hadn't slept well in months, constantly overworking himself and then being unable to recover because he couldn't seem to sleep for more than a few hours each night. There had just been so much to do recently, and even though all of them had been busy putting Camelot back together, it seemed like Merlin was taking everything to heart far more deeply than anyone else.

Was he perhaps blaming himself for what had happened (which was just ridiculous, because there was no way any of it was his fault), or was there something else eating away at him?

"So you're saying he hasn't slept in two days?" asked Elyan, frowning at the thought. "Wouldn't that kind of exhaustion be easier to see? I mean, he looked fine this morning."

Lancelot was about to say something, but it was Gwaine that answered, a small but still amused grin on his face.

"If there's one thing I've learnt about Merlin in all our time together, it's that he's stubborn. He doesn't give in easily, and if there's something he doesn't want you to find out, odds are you won't. After all, that smile of his can be pretty disarming."

For a brief moment, Lancelot worried that Gwaine might be implying something, that his words had a double meaning, but he relaxed a bit when he realized that even for someone who was unaware of Merlin's magic, it was still easy to see all that in him. Many of his actions were selfless, and despite the situations he often ended up in, he never ran away or backed down. Magic or not, defenseless or not, Merlin was a stubborn idiot who spent too much time worrying about everyone else and not enough time taking care of himself. The boy was utterly exasperating at times, but he wouldn't have him any other way, and he got the feeling that the rest of them felt much the same.

As the four of them lapsed into silence, Arthur quickly finished off his drink before setting his tankard down and getting up from the table.

"I'm turning in," he announced before walking away and disappearing up the stairs. One didn't need to be a genius or even a mind reader to know where he was going. It seemed they wouldn't need to sort out sleeping arrangements after all, although something told Lancelot that they wouldn't have had to bother in the first place.

Despite how much they kept to themselves, both prince and warlock were _unbelievably_ predictable.

* * *

><p>With more care than usual, Arthur very quietly opened the door to what he had now deemed as "his" room (well, his and Merlin's if one wanted to be particular about it). His eyes were instantly drawn to the figure occupying one of the beds. Merlin was just lying there on his stomach, face half buried in the pillow. His breathing was deep and even, a sign of someone already deeply asleep.<p>

Arthur walked over slowly until he was right next to the bed. Even with someone so close by, nearly hovering over him, the boy didn't stir. It was true that Merlin's instincts when it came to self-preservation were almost non-existent, but one would think he would have at least developed some sort of sense by now. Unfortunately it looked like he hadn't, because he remained just as deeply asleep and oblivious as before.

Anyone could have simply walked into the room—a thief, a murderer—and Merlin wouldn't have seen it coming. He was too exhausted to be awoken easily. Nothing short of screaming or pushing him off the bed would probably rouse him. Arthur was actually rather tempted to try the later, because it would certainly serve the boy right. He had taken things too far this time. How dare he let himself get to this point? What kind of idiot would choose not to sleep for two days and still try to act like nothing was wrong?

Even though he was angry with his servant at the moment, he knew that Merlin had only done it to help, that he had spent every waking moment trying to figure out what they were heading into. He had once more been focusing on what he believed was best for the rest of them and not sparing a thought for himself. It was irritating, and Arthur wished that he would stop worrying so much about everyone else and start looking after himself for a change (because unlike them, Merlin was defenseless, and yet he still threw himself into danger at every opportunity). It was bad enough that the boy was a reckless idiot, but he didn't need to be running himself into the ground as well.

What made it worse was that Merlin never complained when he should. He would whine and talk back just because he could—because Arthur let him—but he never said anything when something was actually wrong. Whenever he wasn't feeling well, he brushed it off and would pretend otherwise. If he was injured, he'd try to hide it or pass it off as nothing, and apparently when he was drop-dead exhausted, he would still do all of his chores and run around after Arthur without letting anyone see the toll it was taking on him.

He hadn't said _anything_. Two sleepless nights, and he had remained silent.

He was an _idiot_.

And now that he was looking, Arthur could see the signs. Merlin was pale, more so than usual, and there were dark rings under his eyes. Even in sleep, he looked worn out and weary. It was no wonder that he had fallen asleep so quickly, not even bothering to remove his jacket or boots before succumbing to the gentle pull of slumber. Lancelot was right to leave him be, and Arthur had no intention of disturbing him now.

That didn't mean it didn't bother him though, because after everything they had gone through, it seemed that Merlin still didn't believe that he could talk to Arthur about things like this. If he had simply asked, the prince would have given him the time he needed, either to help Gaius or to get some sleep.

He had only needed to ask.

"You should've said something," he scolded, still watching his servant as he clenched his fists in irritation. "It's bad enough you seem intent on taking years off your own life. I don't need you taking any off of mine."

He didn't get a response aside from the same deep, even breaths as Merlin continued to sleep, but then again, he hadn't really been expecting one.

With a sigh, the prince went and sat down on the edge of the other bed, taking off his leather coat and boots before lying back and making himself comfortable. He spared one last glance for his slumbering companion before heaving a sigh and rolling onto his side.

He would deal with his exasperating servant tomorrow. For now, he just wanted to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** There you have it :) Thank you to all who have reviewed and to those who have favorited and alerted :) Please feel free to drop a review. I would love to know what you all think thus far.

Until next time!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Hello again :) Still don't have much to say, only that I'm really enjoying Season 4 so far. I made my sister watch the first 3 eps with me on Sunday, which was great fun. It's always more fun watching with someone than alone. Other than that, not much is new for me. I caught a cold on Saturday, but I think I killed it fast enough that it didn't get really bad this time (I have a lot of preventative stuff that I take every time I think I'm coming down with a cold. It really helps).

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language. Better safe than sorry, ne?  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin, because if I did, I certainly wouldn't be selling my Fretlight Guitar on Craigs List to help pay my medical bills.

Don't know if this chapter went the way many of you were probably hoping it would, but I liked it the way it was. I was also able to throw in a scene that I really wanted to put into a fic, and this one lent itself rather nicely :) It was just something I was thinking about that I thought would be amusing (whether anyone else finds it amusing is another thing, but it made me happy regardless :).  
>This also happens to be the last prewritten chapter, but I still have hopes of being able to write out the rest of this before November. My sister is rather certain I'm going to fail. I think I'm starting to agree with her.<p>

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 4<p>

Sometime around the middle of the night, Merlin found himself suddenly jerked into awareness. He sat up quickly, his breathing fast and frantic as he tried to chase the nightmares away and remember where he was. He glanced around the room with wide eyes, and only when his gaze fell upon Arthur did his mind begin to settle. The prince was sleeping rather soundly on the other bed, and thankfully it didn't look like the warlock's panic had been enough to wake him. The last thing he wanted was for Arthur to find out about something like this.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Merlin moved back a bit until he could lean against the wall behind him. He looked out the window and into the night sky beyond it, knowing that it was still well into the night and that he probably hadn't gotten much sleep yet. He wasn't likely to get much more though since he always had a bit of trouble falling back asleep after a nightmare, and he would likely just end up having another one anyway. He had thought they were getting better, and for a while they had been, but now he had something else he was worrying about.

Instead of being hounded by the past, he was being plagued with the unknown. Before he would wake up to images of Camelot being conquered, of Morgause and Morgana winning. He would see the citadel fall and his friends along with it while he was powerless to save them. He had dreamed of what could have been and now he was dreaming of what might be. He only hoped that none of what he saw were premonitions, that they were only manifestations of his own worries and anxieties and had nothing to do with the future. He couldn't bear the thought of any of it coming true.

Unfortunately, the possibility that some of it would was far too great given the nature of their quest. No matter how often he thought about it or tried to plan ahead for potential situations, he couldn't come up with anything. He didn't know enough for any of his ponderings to be helpful. He had no idea what to expect when they got there, and he hoped that maybe once they reached the border and saw it for themselves that Arthur would change his mind and they would all go home.

The chances of that happening were probably about as good as Gwaine suddenly deciding to give up ale or Uther practicing magic.

Heaving a sigh, the warlock very quietly got out of bed and made his way across the room. He needed a bit of fresh air or to just walk around for a while. Maybe then he'd be able to catch a few more hours of sleep before they would have to set off again. With as much care as he could, he opened the door very slowly and then slipped out into the dark hallway. Very carefully he navigated his way down the stairs, but when he reached the bottom, his eyes were immediately drawn to the slight flickering of a single candle.

Sitting there at a table near the far corner was none other than Gwaine, and he looked like he had something in his hand…

Merlin couldn't help but gape at his friend. Was that…was that a cup of _ale_? It was the middle of the night! There was also a whole _pitcher_ sitting next to the candle!

The warlock wasn't sure whether he should laugh or sigh in exasperation.

"Merlin," the knight said in greeting, a smile on his face. "What brings you here?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm the one who should be asking you that," he said as he walked over, standing next to the table and eying the pitcher of what had to be either ale or mead. He couldn't tell which it was, but it didn't really matter.

"Fair point."

"Where did you even get that? The tavern's been closed for hours."

"It's amazing what a little flattery and a lot of charm can do," Gwaine told him with a sly grin. "It didn't take much."

This time the warlock couldn't help himself and began to laugh. He kept his voice down as much as he could, not wanting to wake anyone, and once he'd settled down a bit, he pulled out a chair and took a seat at the table. He had no intention of drinking with his friend, but he could use the company. Gwaine was someone he could be himself around even though the knight didn't know about his magic. His presence was just relaxing in a way. His somewhat unconcerned and amused attitude was refreshing. No matter what they were doing or what they might be facing, Gwaine never seemed bothered in the least. He always took things as they came instead of fretting over the possible outcomes. Some people would call it carelessness or recklessness, perhaps even indifference, but it wasn't, not really.

Actually, he wasn't entirely sure _what_ it was. He couldn't really think of a word for it. Gwaine was in a class all his own with his own strange brand of confidence. Despite what Merlin knew about his past and his life, none of it seemed to weigh the man down. There were times, like now for example, where he wished he could borrow whatever kind of strength it was that allowed the knight to relax so easily.

"Merlin," Gwaine called, pulling him out of his musing and earning his attention. "You look troubled. Something on your mind?"

"A lot of things, actually."

"Sometimes talking helps."

Merlin couldn't help but smile, grateful for the offer even though he knew he'd be turning it down.

"Thanks. I appreciate it, but this is something I have to work through on my own."

For a long moment, Gwaine remained silent, just watching him over the rim of his cup as if he were something strange or foreign…and at the same time it felt like he was looking right through him.

"…You don't have to be here, you know," he finally said, setting his cup down and pouring himself another. "No one would think poorly of you if you left. I know you didn't want to come in the first place."

"I can't."

His answer was immediate and without hesitation, and the sheer certainty in it had Gwaine pausing for a moment so that he could see the look on Merlin's face. He was half expecting resignation or exasperation, or perhaps even some annoyance, but what he found was both unexpected and yet entirely unsurprising. He knew the boy well, after all, and this wasn't the first time he had seen that look on his face—such pure determination and certainty, dedicated belief and stubbornness. It was the look of someone whose mind was made up and probably had been long before now. There had probably never even been a decision to make. His answer was stated as nothing more or less than a simple _fact_.

In all his travels, he could honestly say that he had never met anyone quite like Merlin.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a difficult person to figure out?" he asked, taking a sip of his ale but still watching his friend. That question earned him a grin, and a mirthful one this time.

"Yes. Repeatedly."

He couldn't help but laugh at that, shaking his head a bit as he took a long drink before once more setting down his cup. It seemed that no matter what he was facing or what internal struggle he was dealing with, Merlin would always be Merlin—quick to offer a smile and able to make most people offer one in return. He liked to joke around and would give just as good as he got, and although he was good at making himself look like a fool, he was quick witted and wise when it mattered. The servant was brave too, even if he didn't always act like it. Some people would call it recklessness, but Merlin always seemed to know what he was doing, or at the very least he seemed to know _why_ he was doing it.

Someday he would figure him out. Someday he would learn what could drive a person to trek miles from home, no plan and no weapons, in order to find a prince who may or may _not_ have needed help—who hadn't even wanted or appreciated it—without a second thought. What made him so fiercely loyal, selfless, and unwavering even when all the odds were against them?

Where did strength like that _come_ from?

"Well, Merlin," he began jovially, "if nothing else, you certainly know how to keep a person guessing."

The grin he got in response wasn't as bright as the one before, tinged with something that looked a great deal like regret, but he didn't bring it up. Instead he launched into a story, hoping to ease whatever was troubling his friend, and soon he had the boy in stitches, trying to stifle his laughter so he didn't wake any of the other patrons. They continued like that until his ale ran dry and Merlin didn't look quite so burdened by whatever was on his mind.

After all, just because he didn't know what that burden was didn't mean he couldn't help to ease it.

* * *

><p>When Arthur awoke the next morning, it was to the sun shining through the window, the sounds of people bustling about outside, and the sight of an empty bed. He sat up rather quickly and looked around the room, but sure enough there was no sign of Merlin. It was impossible to tell how long the boy had been gone, but he was obviously still around somewhere seeing as all his stuff was still stashed away in the corner of the room along with Arthur's.<p>

The prince took a moment to stretch, working out the stiffness in his joints (he wasn't used to sleeping on such a small, uncomfortable bed, although it was still better than sleeping on the ground). He then quickly got up and walked over to the window. It was pretty early seeing as how the sun wasn't far over the horizon, but it was late enough that most of the village was probably awake by now. Peasants, especially farmers, couldn't afford to have a lie in and were often up with the sun. Most servants couldn't either, actually, although his had a tendency to sleep in more often than not which was why the fact that Merlin's bed was empty bothered him a bit.

After two sleepless nights, he should have indulged himself in a late, sleepy morning, but instead he was already up and out doing who knew what. If that idiot still looked tired…well, he just better not, because Arthur really didn't want to have to knock the boy out just so he would get the rest he needed. After all, Merlin would be of no use to anyone if he collapsed from exhaustion.

As soon as he felt like he was ready to face the day, the prince left his temporary room and headed downstairs in search of food. What he found was the sight of Merlin and Lancelot occupying one of the tables and whispering amongst themselves. It was a sight he had seen rather often as of late, ever since the knight had returned to Camelot. He had known that the two of them were friends, but it was a little unnerving nonetheless because as soon as anyone else approached them, they would immediately clam up. It always made him curious, but trying to get an answer out of either of them was a painful process, one that often left him frustrated and more confused than before, so he usually didn't bother.

One day he would figure it out, given enough time. Until then he would just have to deal with it.

Arthur began to make his way over, noticing that both of them had apparently eaten already given the empty plates on the table. Just how long had they been up for?

Lancelot was the first to notice him, offering a smile and a quick bow of his head.

"Sire, good morning," he greeted.

"Good morning," he responded although his attention was on Merlin. While the servant looked better than he had, there were still signs of exhaustion. Clearly he hadn't gotten as much sleep as he should have despite having turned in early. The question though was why. Was it nerves or restlessness, worry, insomnia, or maybe nightmares? There had to be a reason.

"What?" asked Merlin, peering at him a bit suspiciously, and Arthur realized that he had been staring. He quickly dragged his eyes away, shaking his head a bit both to clear it and to dismiss the query.

"Nothing," he said before sitting down next to his servant. "So, where are Gwaine and Elyan?"

"Elyan went to check on the horses," said Lancelot. "Gwaine is still sleeping. He turned in late last night."

_Typical._ Gwaine had a habit of staying out late and then waking up late too. He was even less punctual than Merlin, and that was saying something. Arthur couldn't even begin to count the number of times that Gwaine had shown up late for training, and the knight had only been in Camelot for two months! Worse yet, there was nothing he could really do to reprimand him, because Gwaine was the type of person who let things just roll right off his back. No amount of threats or insults seemed to deter him, and he always gave as good as he got. In the end, the quirks were just something that Arthur had to deal with. He should have known that knighting Gwaine wouldn't change the man any.

He was reluctant to admit it, but he was actually rather grateful for that.

"If he isn't up in the next hour, go ahead and wake him. We can't afford to sit around and waste time like this. We're only an hour or two from the border, and as long as we don't run into any trouble, we might be able to cut half a day off our journey."

He knew it wasn't likely—trouble had a habit of finding him, whether he invited it or not—but he could dream.

_And who knows,_ he mused quietly to himself as a barmaid wandered over to see if he wanted anything to eat, _maybe this time we really will have no trouble._

* * *

><p>When a group of bandits ran into the clearing, swords swinging and voices raised, Arthur cursed that stupid, damning thought for ever having crossed his mind. It was entirely to blame for this, and he wished that he could say that such a turn of events was shocking, but he found that he wasn't the least bit surprised (they had only crossed the border a few hours ago, and already something was going wrong. Nothing good ever seemed to happen to him in Cenred's kingdom). Instead he simply leapt off his horse, pulled his sword free, and began cutting down their attackers.<p>

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his knights dismounting and engaging the bandits just as readily as he had, and he wondered if they were at all shocked by this development or if they had already grown accustomed to the bad luck that seemed to follow the prince wherever he went. However, it was probably important to note that no matter how bad or desperate the situation became, he always made it out alive. He and Merlin had survived plenty of things that they shouldn't have, and he hoped that for once some of that good fortune would rub off on the knights. He was so tired of losing people, of losing the men he fought and trained with.

Arthur sincerely hoped that just once, all of them would make it home alive.

As the bandits converged on the clearing, surrounding their little group, Lancelot immediately moved himself closer to Merlin. The servant had only just gotten down from his horse, and although he had brought a sword for himself, it didn't take a genius to realize that he wasn't suited for this type of combat. Normally the warlock would simply stay back, dodge around, or hide, but the first and third weren't options, and the second would be difficult considering how many bandits there were. There was really no way for him to discretely fall back and use his magic to aid them, at least not without help, and so Lancelot had every intention of watching his friend's back and keeping him out of sight while Merlin subtly tipped the odds in their favor.

Although he hadn't spent much time around Merlin when the boy used his magic, he quickly learned in only a matter of moments that "subtle" wasn't exactly a word to associate with Merlin.

The first thing the boy did was cause a tree root to trip up one of the bandits running up behind Gwaine. It simply lifted off the ground, sending the man sprawling, and then sank back down again. _No one_ (besides him, apparently) noticed, even though it had lifted a full foot off the ground. The next thing he did was wrench a sword out of one of their hands, allowing Elyan to very easily defeat the man who had simply "lost his grip" on his sword. Despite being a bit more discrete, it wasn't at all normal, and yet it still went unnoticed by everyone unaware of the fact that there was a sorcerer in their midst.

Through the entire battle, Merlin just kept doing things—tripping men up, pulling away their weapons, causing their sword hilts to heat up, pushing them over, making their weapons get stuck in trees and the ground, etc—but the most ridiculous, the least subtle of all of his spells was when the fight was nearing its end and one of the men was trying to get behind Arthur. The bandit was just about to strike the prince, a blow aimed for his neck, when a _tree branch_ of all things fell on top of him, sending the man crashing to the ground in an unconscious—possibly even dead—heap just as the prince finished off the last bandit.

Everyone turned to look at it, and for a moment Lancelot was worried about what the reaction would be, if anyone would suspect that something unnatural had just occurred. Elyan was eyeing it a bit warily, and even Gwaine looked the slightest bit suspicious if not thoroughly amused, but Arthur took one look at the branch and then the tree it had fallen from before giving a half shrug and sheathing his sword.

"Well, that was a stroke of luck," he commented—no surprise, no suspicion, nothing.

He simply left it at that.

Lancelot had to fight the urge to gape in disbelief at the way Arthur completely brushed off something that was so obviously _not normal_. Even Elyan and Gwaine were looking at him a bit strangely after that comment, and if not for the fact that it could potentially get Merlin into trouble, Lancelot would have loved to question the prince about his complete nonchalance—also known as obliviousness in this case—towards the event.

Gwaine, having no such qualms and a penchant for picking on their leader, did it for him.

"A stroke of luck? That's what you call it?" he asked, apparently unconvinced, and Lancelot could practically feel Merlin tense up behind him. He imagined the warlock was probably feeling a bit worried at this sudden turn. He got the feeling that the boy wasn't used to having his "subtle" uses of magic questioned like this, which meant that—and he felt a bit guilty for even thinking it—Arthur really _was_ as oblivious as Merlin claimed him to be.

"Of course. What else would it be?"

Now Lancelot was also fighting the urge to sigh in exasperation as well. Really, there was just no other explanation for it. Perhaps part of it could be equated to the fact that Arthur had grown up without being taught much about magic, but a great deal of it had to do with the prince's own personality. He had a tendency to write a lot of things off and to simply accept what he was told (as long as it didn't sound too ridiculous or farfetched). It was nice that he trusted the people close to him, and it certainly made things easier for Merlin…but it also meant that one day everything was likely to blow up in their faces, and depending on the circumstances, they all stood to lose a great deal.

It was probably best not to dwell on that, at least not yet. That day was hopefully a long, long time away still. Right now he needed to focus on making sure that Gwaine didn't press too hard with this subject.

"Well, princess, I've been in plenty of fights before, but I've never had a perfectly good tree branch suddenly fall on someone who was trying to kill me."

The look Arthur gave Gwaine was one of irritation but also a bit of suspicion. The prince was looking _thoughtful_, and so Lancelot quickly intervened, wanting to end this conversation as soon as possible.

"Perhaps you're just unlucky," he said to Gwaine. "Considering some of the stories you've regaled us with, it's not surprising."

He held his breath, hoping this would work and also hoping that he didn't anger his friend. However, one of Gwaine's more admirable traits was the fact that he didn't let things get to him, and sure enough, a smile broke out on the knight's face, one that probably would've been referred to as sheepish on anyone else. He was pretty sure Gwaine was incapable of being embarrassed.

"Can't argue with you there," he replied. "I've certainly suffered more than my fair share of misfortune." His comment also drew a smile from Elyan and Arthur, and Lancelot heard Merlin sigh in relief from behind him, thankful to have the attention away from his small display of magic. He was going to have to have a talk with the boy about being a bit more subtle now that there were more people around to notice, and unlike Arthur, they weren't likely to just write everything off as a "stroke of luck."

Although…if they _were_ to notice, he was fairly certain that neither Gwaine nor Elyan would turn against Merlin, especially Gwaine. Like him, he knew that if it came down to it, Gwaine would side with Merlin. It was something the two of them had in common. They stayed in Camelot because they believed in Arthur, but both of them had originally come because of Merlin. No matter what it cost him, his loyalty would first and foremost be to the boy who had been willing to sacrifice everything for the people and the kingdom he loved. Merlin had dedicated every bit of himself to Arthur and to Camelot, sparing almost no consideration for himself, and so even if it meant that he would one day be forced to choose between his dream of being a knight and his friend, he knew what choice he would make.

It didn't even bear thinking about.

His thoughts as well as the tapering conversation were put to a sudden end by the sound of groaning coming from the man who had been felled by the tree branch. The heavy limb was sprawled across his chest, pinning him to the ground, but he would likely be able to push it away once he was fully conscious. His eyelids were fluttering, signaling that he was about to wake, and so Arthur quickly moved to stand next to him, the tip of his sword pointing towards the bandit's chest. He wasn't about to take any chances, even against a seemingly unarmed man. Bandits could be tricky, and it was never a good idea to underestimate one's opponent.

When his eyes blinked open and took in his surroundings before settling on Arthur, the prince wasted no time in beginning his interrogation.

"Who are you?" he demanded, trying to sound intimidating, but he must have fallen short somewhere seeing as how the man only smirked, an amused huff escaping his lips. If not for the tree branch across his chest, he likely would've laughed.

"No one of any consequence, least not to you," he answered, his voice horrible and grating, completely lacking any sort of respect or deference. He didn't even seem scared.

"I'll be the judge of that."

The prince shifted his sword until it was right under the man's chin, the tip resting just above his neck, and despite the confidence in the bandit's voice and expression, he tried to shrink back from the blade and the glaring prince on the other end of it.

"How well do you know these lands?" Arthur asked.

"I know 'em better than you lot, that's for sure, although that probably isn't saying much."

"Then tell me everything you know about the western border."

All of them gaped at the prince for a moment, surprised at the demand, but their attention soon shifted to the bandit. The man was eyeing Arthur a bit oddly, as if he couldn't quite understand what he was being asked or why. He didn't say anything at first, just kept staring, but eventually his expression shifted back into one of amusement.

"Why do you want to know 'bout something like that?" he asked.

"My reasons don't concern you. Now tell me what you know."

"And why should I? What's in it for me?"

The prince pressed the tip of his sword to a point just under the man's chin, forcing his head to angle back in order to escape the deadly tip.

"If you tell me what you know, I'll let you leave with your life."

The bandit fell quiet for a moment more, probably deciding whether or not he could trust Arthur's words. In the end his response wasn't surprising. As far as information went, this knowledge wasn't life shattering or of much consequence. It wasn't a secret that needed to be kept, and most men would rather keep their lives than their secrets, although Lancelot knew there were exceptions to that. He got the feeling that Merlin was likely one such person, and depending on the secret, Arthur was likely to be another.

"Alright," the man conceded, the smirk having fallen right off his face. "I'll tell you what I know."

Arthur pulled his sword away a scant inch, allowing the man to heave a deep sigh before he began.

"Beyond the western border lies a vale that's shrouded in mist. They say that it never fades, but sometimes if you look closely enough, you can see a castle just a little ways beyond it. As far as I know, it's been like that for ages. The mist has always been there. A lot of people have tried to go beyond it, but not a single one of them has ever come back. Tis a fool's errand, in my opinion."

The man said nothing more, and all of them simply waited, expecting him to continue with his story, but he didn't utter a single word.

"That's it?" Arthur eventually asked.

"Of course it is. What were you expecting, some gallant folk tale? No one who's gone looking has ever returned. It's pretty hard to hear a story when there's no one left to tell it."

They had no choice but to concede that that was true. If no one had ever come back, then obviously no one would know what was hiding in the mist. The man's story lined up with what Danigan had already told them, which left them once more with nothing to go on.

With a disappointed sigh, Arthur withdrew his blade and sheathed it before turning to head back to his horse, leaving the bandit trapped under the tree branch.

For some reason he didn't seem particularly happy with that arrangement.

"Hey, you just going to leave me like this?" he called out.

"I said I'd let you leave with your life. I'm sure you can manage to get out from under there by yourself."

As the prince mounted his horse and the rest of them followed suit, preparing to take off, the bandit craned his neck to look at their small group, a smirk on his face.

"Is that where you're heading then, the vale?" he asked, his words tinged with amused laughter. When Arthur didn't deem his question worth answering, he let out a rough chortle. "Do you wish to die that badly? You one of those types then, the kind that thinks 'it won't be me?' Everyone who's ever crossed the border has gone in thinking like that, and none of them ever came back. It'll be the same for you. Peasants, nobles, knights, thieves—all of us are the same in that regard. You'll wander around lost in the mist until you die, or you'll be killed by whatever lies beyond it. Don't go thinking you're something special. Not even magic could save you."

The prince only glared at the prone man, fighting the urge to go back and run him through if only to shut him up. Instead he turned away and started to head off through the forest once more.

"Let's go," he said, and the rest of them followed, leaving the bandit where he lay. They rode off to the sound of his laughter, chasing after them until it eventually faded into the forest and his words became nothing more than an echo in the back of their minds.

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><p><strong>AN:** Well, there you have it :) Another chapter done. I just wanted to say thank you to all who have been reading. Feel free to drop a review, although like I said before, I won't ask or beg, but they do make me rather happy, and I love knowing what you all think :) Oh, and I just wanted to say that if you respond back to my responses but I don't send another back, it's usually because I either don't remember to or that I can't think of anything to say. It's nothing to do with ignoring someone. I'm just a relatively shy person who is crap at holding up conversations.  
>So, I'm thinking that the real plot will probably come in the next few chapters. I don't intend to draw it out much longer (though I make no guarantees, cause I never know what might crop up while I'm writing)<p>

Anyway, that's all for now! See you all next week :)


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Howdy! Wasn't sure if I would get this chapter done in time, but I seem to have succeeded. This has been a rather odd week. I guess I caught a cold two weekends ago and therefore spent most of last week coughing and sniffling. I didn't feel like crap, which is odd because my colds always follow the same pattern, but I coughed so much that I kind of coughed my voice away on Friday, so I spent the weekend unable to talk above a whisper, which made work interesting. When working retail and being on the sales floor, you usually need to talk. Thankfully my co-workers are all very nice, considerate people with good senses of humor, and I got lucky that my mother was working almost the same shift as me, so she took care of the things I couldn't. Plus customers tend to be rather sympathetic and patient when the person trying to help them can't really talk :)  
>My cough hasn't gone away though, and it's not really getting any better either, so I'm probably going to be seeing my doctor again very soon. Oh joy. Just hoping that I don't lose my voice again now that I'm finally starting to get it back.<p>

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language. Better safe than sorry, ne?  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin, because if I did, I certainly wouldn't be selling my Fretlight Guitar on Craigs List to help pay my medical bills.

So, this chapter went a bit differently than I expected, but I rather like it, especially the last half. I'm kind of amazed that after five chapters in I'm managing to keep them all about the same length. Usually my chapters tend to get longer and longer the further in I get. I'm sure it'll happen eventually though. I've no delusions about that.

Onward!

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><p>CHAPTER 5<p>

"We'll make camp here," said Arthur as they approached a rather spacious clearing surrounded by tall trees and thick shrubbery. The sky above them was painted in purple and hues of red as the sun began to sink below the horizon. They had been traveling all day, stopping only when the horses needed to rest and they needed to eat, and although it had passed rather quickly, the day had seemed unnecessarily long. The five of them were exhausted in more ways than one, and so it was a very quiet group of men that began to set up camp.

The horses were all brought to a stop near the edge of the clearing where the reins could be secured to one of the trees. All of them dismounted and began unloading what they would need, and for once they all performed the task equally, taking care of their own equipment, which was something Merlin couldn't help but marvel at. More often than not, setting up camp was a task dumped on him. In large hunting parties, someone else would often help out, but things like unloading their supplies, gathering firewood, securing the horses, starting the fire, etc, etc…those were all tasks that almost always fell to him, especially when it was just him and Arthur.

It was kind of nice for a change, not having to handle everything and only needing to really worry about his own stuff. He hadn't really expected the knights to make him take care of their supplies (they tended to take care of themselves unless help was necessary), but it came as a surprise that Arthur wasn't ordering him to do anything, especially since he hadn't felt the need to be so considerate the previous night.

_Maybe he doesn't want to be shown up,_ the warlock mused, because he got the feeling that Gwaine would likely make some sort of comment about not being able to take care of himself if the prince were to have Merlin unpack his bedroll and set it up for him. That idea seemed far more likely than Arthur doing it because he had noticed how tired his servant was or that he still felt guilty about not asking whether the warlock actually wanted to go on this trip or not. After all, Merlin was constantly ordered to do things he didn't want to do, and Arthur very rarely seemed to care. Why start now?

Besides, it's not like Merlin was angry with him or anything. There was no reason for Arthur to act any differently, but he certainly wasn't going to say anything about it. After all, why complain about less work? If the prince wanted to do something by himself for a change, then far be it for Merlin to stop him. He could just look at it as a sign that Arthur was finally starting to grow up. It was a step in the right direction.

It didn't take long to set up camp, the firewood being the only thing left to procure, and if Merlin had been surprised earlier with Arthur, he was even more so when the prince volunteered to go off and collect it. He didn't particularly like the idea of Arthur wandering off on his own, but he didn't really have an adequate reason to stop him, so he was more than grateful when Gwaine decided to tag along. The warlock couldn't help but grin as the knight began to verbally poke and prod at his prince. Gaining status had done nothing to change the man. If anything it had made him more prone to insolence.

With nothing left to do, Merlin sat himself down, leaning against a nearby tree. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, but if anything he was even more on edge than before. Despite the fact that his body was screaming at him to get some sleep, his mind was still racing, repeating every word that they had heard from that bandit as well as the story that Danigan had told them.

No matter how many times he tried to sort through it, the result was the same.

In the end, he had absolutely no idea what they were getting themselves into.

"Merlin?"

The warlock opened his eyes and looked up to see Lancelot standing in front of him. The knight was watching him with unveiled concern as he began to sit down so that the two of them would be at eye level. It was rather nice of him, really, because Merlin wasn't entirely sure how long he could hold his head up like that. It was already trying to drop down, his neck protesting any and all effort to hold it up.

"You look troubled," said Lancelot, keeping his voice quiet. Merlin didn't bother to comment on the observation, a shrug being his only response. Besides, he was pretty sure Lancelot already knew what was on his mind. The knight certainly didn't disappoint. "You're worried about what that man said."

"Yes." It hadn't been a question, but he felt like answering anyway. "Every time I hear that story, it just seems to reinforce the fact that none of us know what we're getting into. I've never been in a situation like this, where I have no idea what to expect, and I hate it."

Lancelot didn't say anything at first, but he could hear the knight shifting a bit, settling himself against a nearby tree much like the warlock had done. When he finally spoke again, he kept his voice quiet.

"What are your thoughts on it then?" he asked. "You know more about magic than the rest of us. What do you believe it is?"

The warlock said nothing at first, letting his thoughts drift a bit. He had so many theories—there were just so many possibilities—but he hadn't really bothered to sort through them or spend too much time thinking about any one in particular. Whatever the situation was though, it clearly involved magic, because it was illogical for mist to blanket the same area for years and years, never lifting or thinning. Even though there were laws involved, magic was a way to defy nature. It could make the impossible possible.

Besides, every time a story like this came up, magic was always somehow behind it. People didn't just simply vanish because of walking off into mist, not unless there was something hiding in the mist that was killing them. Really, the whole thing practically screamed magic. There just wasn't any other rational conclusion, even though he really hated having to blame it on sorcery. Honestly, how were people's views supposed to change on the use of magic if other people kept using it for stupid, selfish reasons? It was rather difficult to get someone to trust magic when it was constantly used against them.

He couldn't help but hope rather desperately that this whole thing was one big sham and that absolutely nothing out of the ordinary was actually going on. Unfortunately he had enough common sense to know better by now. The five of them were likely going to end up way in over their heads.

"I'm not sure," he began, keeping his voice low. "My best guess would be that it's some kind of enchantment, but it would take someone extremely powerful to be able to maintain a spell like that for so long. According to Danigan, the area has been like that for _years_. No one can even remember a time when it wasn't."

"So then what else could be causing it?"

"Well…if the enchantment was anchored to something, then I guess it would be possible for it to last for years without having to be recast, but still…it would have to be a powerful spell with an equally powerful vessel. I can't even think of something that would be able to last that long."

"Why would someone even bother with a spell like that?"

"I don't know. Maybe to hide something or to keep people away, although there clearly hasn't been much success with the latter."

"…Perhaps," began Lancelot, a thoughtful expression crossing his face, "it's not about keeping people out…but keeping something _in_?"

…Oh.

Oh, he certainly hoped _not_, because that would mean they'd be walking right into a place that they definitely wouldn't be able to come back from. If the enchantment—the mist—had been produced to keep a certain something in, then it only made sense that it would keep everything that came across it in as well. That theory actually lined up rather well with the fact that no one had ever returned after walking into it (he had been so busy contemplating _what_ the mist could be that he had barely even bothered to think about the _why_ aspect).

He desperately hoped that he was just looking too far into things, that Lancelot's idea was wrong, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made, and he quickly found himself dreading this stupid mission more than ever. Even though he was technically a powerful sorcerer, able to do things others could only dream of, he knew he was no match for someone (or something) who could maintain a spell like that for so many years. He also had no idea what the enchantment was even capable of. Maybe the reason no one ever came back was because they all _died_ the moment they walked too far in. Perhaps there was even a creature of some sort hiding in the mist that liked to eat all the curious, reckless idiots that got their kicks from ignoring "superstitious nonsense" as Arthur had so kindly deemed it.

The thought of being eaten really didn't sit well with him, and he suddenly found himself feeling rather sick at the thought of it.

"Merlin, are you alright?" Lancelot asked in concern, no longer keeping his voice as quiet as before, which was fine because Merlin probably wouldn't have heard him otherwise over the racing of his thoughts.

"I'm fine," he said even though he clearly wasn't, the lie slipping out far too naturally even though he knew he didn't actually have to hide anything from the knight. Lancelot was one of the few people he actually _could_ talk to.

"Are you sure? You look rather pale…"

"He's _always_ pale. I'm surprised you hadn't noticed by now."

Both warlock and knight jumped, startled at the sudden reappearance of Arthur and Gwaine. They dumped the firewood they had gathered into a pile rather carelessly, some of the logs rolling away, but their attention was focused on Merlin and Lancelot. The warlock hadn't even heard them approaching, and he prayed that they had only just returned. The last thing he needed was for someone to overhear him talking to Lancelot about magic. He didn't want to let on that he knew a great deal more about the subject than what was assumed. That would be a path towards a lot of unwanted questions and even more unwanted lies.

Merlin really wanted to scowl at the prince and reply with the kind of retort that he was rather famous for, but all his thoughts from earlier were still there (thoughts of a powerful sorcerer, an enchantment, wandering lost in a valley of mist, a monster, and the possibility of them all being eaten), and so his mind refused to come up with something witty. The only thing he could come up with was something along the lines of "I'm _not_ pale," but there was no way he was actually going to say that. Not only would it be a ridiculous and completely pointless lie—because he _was_ pale compared to most people—but it would make him sound like a petulant child, and that was obviously Arthur's forte. No point in treading on someone else's territory.

Unfortunately his lack of response made it quite clear that _something_ was wrong even if none of them knew what it was. They were all just looking at him, and by now Elyan had made his way over as well, so there were four pairs of eyes boring into the top of his head while he stared rather pointedly at the forest floor.

"You do seem a bit paler than usual," said Arthur, and Merlin scowled at the ground, still trying to come up with a retort while at the same time wishing he could avoid this conversation entirely. "Are you having second thoughts?"

He really wanted to scoff at that. Trust Arthur to be able to ask a question in both concern_ and_ condescension.

"No," he said, and if it came out sounding a bit petulant after all, oh well. "Of course not."

"You sure?"

"Yes. I'm fine." Another lie, one that none of them actually seemed to believe. He leant back a bit further, letting himself rest fully against the tree behind him while still not making eye contact. "I'm fine, just…tired."

That, at least, was partially true, and it was far more than he would normally be willing to admit, but he had to say something if he wanted them to leave him alone.

All four of them just stared at him, skeptical, but in the end he wasn't questioned any further. He was even told that he wouldn't have to keep watch, that the knights would divide the task amongst themselves. As irritating as it was to be coddled at times, he was actually grateful for the reprieve. He hadn't slept well the previous night (he had only managed a few more hours after sitting up with Gwaine before the nightmares set in again), and with everything going through his head, he doubted he'd sleep soundly through this one either. He needed to try and get as much rest as he possibly could though, because he got the feeling that things would only get worse from here on out.

* * *

><p>When night fully set in and they had decided to call it a day, Arthur found himself sitting in front of their dwindling fire, having been selected to take the first watch. The four of them had come up with a rotation that would hopefully allow all of them to get enough sleep, and no one had said anything about his decision to exclude Merlin. All of them had seemed to think it was for the best, although he had been half expecting his servant to start complaining (because Merlin was an idiot and had a tendency to complain about everything). Honestly, even when Arthur was trying to be nice to him, Merlin would still find something to complain about.<p>

With nothing better to do besides stare into the crackling fire, the prince let his attention drift and his thoughts wander. As much as he wanted to completely disregard the incident earlier in the day, he found that he couldn't quite chase that bandit's warning from his mind. His words had been the same as Danigan's if only less refined, their stories matching up perfectly. Across the western border was a vale shrouded in mist and the silhouette of a castle just beyond it. Many people had gone looking for it over the years, and not one of them had ever come back. It made no difference who they were—_all_ of them had met the same fate.

He wasn't entirely sure if he could keep brushing this off as mere superstition. There was clearly something very wrong in that vale. The question was what, but that was the one thing that no one seemed to know, because no one had lived to report what they had seen.

Really, why should he be any different?

For some reason though, he just couldn't see himself _not_ coming back. After facing so many different challenges, so many creatures and sorcerers and immortal armies, he just couldn't see any of them meeting their end in some enchanted vale shrouded in mist. It wasn't arrogance or pride that spurred that feeling but confidence and certainty. Where so many others had failed, he had always managed to come out alive and victorious. He just didn't see that changing now.

However, that didn't mean he was ignorant enough to believe that it couldn't. Everyone had their limits. No matter how strong or capable a person was, there would eventually be something that would bring them down.

Even those with great power were only human in the end.

Arthur reached out towards the small pile of wood sitting near the fire and tossed a few more pieces in, rekindling the dying flame. He looked around the small clearing, seeking out each of his companions in turn until his attention inevitably stopped on Merlin. The boy had fallen asleep long before the rest of them, just as quickly and soundly as the night before. Now Arthur was just waiting for a sign that something was wrong, some hint as to why Merlin wasn't getting enough sleep, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. There was no restless shifting, no mumbling, no fidgeting—no signs at all that his sleep was anything but pleasant and undisturbed.

He wasn't sure whether he should feel relieved or irritated by that. Something had been bothering the servant, something that he was pretty sure Lancelot was privy to and probably Gaius as well, but he couldn't exactly ask the physician and Lancelot wasn't likely to divulge anything. It didn't take a genius to see where the knight's real loyalties lay. Sure, he didn't doubt that Lancelot would fight for Camelot with all he had, would protect the kingdom and the people with his very life if need be, but he got the feeling that if it ever came down to a choice between his duty to Arthur and his loyalty to Merlin, he would choose Merlin.

And as irritating as that notion was, he found that it didn't bother him as much as it should. He knew that he should feel angry or even bitter about the fact that a knight in service to him and to Camelot would put his friendship with a servant before his duty, but all he really felt was a tiny bit of annoyance and a strange sense of relief.

After all, hadn't he done much the same in the past, on more than one occasion?

For that reason, Arthur would let the two of them keep their secrets (for now, at least). The whispering, the knowing looks, all those silent exchanges—he would let all of it go, no matter how much it bothered him to do so, because Merlin needed a friend like Lancelot to look after him when Arthur couldn't. Merlin was a reckless idiot who had a bad habit of rushing into things and throwing himself into dangerous situations. He was impulsive, naïve, and too damn trusting for his own good, and one day Arthur might not be there to pull him out of whatever mess he had stumbled into.

One day it might really come to a choice between saving his kingdom and saving Merlin, and as much as he hated to think about it, he knew what choice he would have to make. If that time came, he would simply have to trust in Lancelot to take care of the other.

He wasn't entirely sure how long he had been sitting there, alternating between staring into the fire and keeping an eye on Merlin, but it must have been for quite a while, because before he knew it, someone was tapping him on the shoulder. He turned to see Elyan standing there, a smile on his face.

"I figured I'd relieve you of your post a little early since I'm up at the moment," he said. "An hour or so won't make much difference."

"Are you sure?" He had made it very clear to all of them that he didn't like being given special treatment simply because he was the prince. Some had accepted that more easily than others (Gwaine had apparently taken it to mean that he could continue to treat Arthur the way he always had and still get away with it), and some had continued to tread lightly until he had set them straight.

"I'm sure. Get some rest, Arthur."

"…Alright," he relented as he got to his feet. It felt good to stand up after having sat in front of the fire for so long. He walked past Elyan and over to his bedroll while the knight took his place in front of the fire. Normally he would have insisted that he finish his shift, that he didn't need anyone to coddle him just because he was the prince, but he knew that for once that wasn't the reason.

Elyan had called him _Arthur_.

He wasn't just a prince amongst his knights.

He was a man amongst his _friends_.

* * *

><p>…<em>Where am I?<em>

It was the only thought going through his head as he stood there, staring out at a vast expanse of nothing but grass and dirt. The air was thick and heavy around him, making it a chore just to breathe, and he couldn't see more than a few yards in any direction. It didn't help that no matter which way he faced, everything looked exactly the same. Everything was shrouded in white, and not even the light of the sun could pierce through the veil around him. He couldn't even see a sliver of blue sky beyond the all consuming fog he was standing in.

_Where am I?_

"Hello?" he called, hoping for some sort of answer, for anything other than silence. His own voice seemed to echo in the expanse before fading away, and all that remained was a kind of emptiness that he didn't know what to do with. He called again, a bit more desperately, but the result was the same, and it shouldn't have been, because until a few moments ago, he hadn't been alone. Everyone had been there—Arthur, Lancelot, Gwaine, Elyan—and they had been chatting and bickering and cracking jokes at each other's expense, but now they were all _gone_, as if they had simply vanished into thin air.

Maybe they had gotten ahead of him somehow, had kept walking when he had stopped upon finding himself surrounding by white. With that thought in mind, he took a few steps forward, thinking that if he could just start walking, he'd eventually catch up to them, but each one he took made the world close in around him.

It didn't take long to realize that he was hopelessly lost and completely alone.

"Arthur?" he called tentatively, not wanting to break the silence but needing to find his friends. What if something had happened to them? What if they had gotten separated as well? What if they were all lost, or worse?

What if something attacked them and he wasn't there to help?

"Arthur!"

He glanced around, becoming increasingly frantic when all he could see was the ground beneath his feet and a blanket of white in every direction.

"Lancelot! Gwaine! Elyan!"

There was nothing, and he felt himself start to panic.

"Arthur!"

He tried to draw in another deep breath, to shout one more time in hopes that one of them would hear him, but he found himself choking instead. The air was too thick, too heavy, and it suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. The world around him was cold and damp and _lonely_, tainted with grief and despair.

His knees buckled and suddenly he was falling…

"_Merlin!"_

With a sharp gasp, his eyes snapped open, and he found himself surrounded by trees and dirt and his own bedroll, the night sky dark and cloudless beyond the canopy of the forest. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down, and when he finally had, he noticed that he wasn't exactly alone. There was a gentle but insistent pressure against his shoulder, and when he turned towards it, he came face to face with a very concerned looking Elyan.

"Merlin, you alright?" he asked quietly, keeping his voice low so as not to wake the rest of their companions. He knew it was a stupid question, but it needed to be asked anyway if only to help ease the situation, because this was anything but comfortable for him, and he was sure that Merlin was more likely to be embarrassed than grateful.

It had only been about two hours into his shift when his attention had been drawn away from the fire and towards the servant. What had started as just a bit of shifting in his sleep had quickly turned into tossing and turning, then struggling, and then something just shy of thrashing. At that point he had been running over to see what was wrong, although he had already had an idea.

Sure enough, the boy had been in the midst of a nightmare, his breathing sharp and his expression pained. He had wasted no time in trying to wake him, shaking him repeatedly and calling out while trying not to alert anyone else. He had almost been ready to resort to more drastic measures (like slapping or grabbing a water skin and upending it) when Merlin had finally woken up, eyes wide and still haunted by whatever nightmare he had fallen into.

Although he looked a bit calmer now, it was obvious that he was anything but alright.

"Elyan?" he asked in a whisper. Elyan only nodded in response, watching as his friend took a deep, calming breath before pushing himself up. The knight let his hand drop from the boy's shoulder, no longer needing to offer comfort in that way but knowing that it was still needed nonetheless. Merlin still looked shaken, and there was no way he was going to leave him on his own just yet.

Not knowing exactly what to say, the knight kept silent and watched as Merlin propped himself up against the tree behind him, eyes closed as he just breathed in deeply for a few moments. When his eyes finally opened again, they were tired but guarded, and he got the feeling that if he were to question the servant, he would experience the same frustration that Arthur often went through when trying to get answers out of him. For all his open friendliness and his habit of wearing his emotions on his sleeve, Merlin kept a great deal to himself and guarded his troubles just as fiercely as he did his friends.

He was the type of person where no matter how well you thought you knew him, he'd eventually do something to make you realize that maybe you didn't really know him at all.

"Are you alright?" Elyan asked again even though he knew what the answer would be.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not." The look that earned him would have been humorous under different circumstances—half affronted and half bemused—but he knew that now wasn't the time for levity. "It looked like you were having a nightmare."

Merlin lowered his head, his attention settling on the ground. He'd been half expecting the boy to claim that it was nothing and that he was fine, but maybe he had realized that lying wasn't going to work this time, not when the evidence to the contrary was so damning.

Something occurred to him then, something he hadn't really noticed much before, but given what Lancelot had said the previous night and some of the things that Gwen had commented on during the past two months, he got the feeling that this wasn't just a one time occurrence. Merlin had been looking tired for _weeks_. It had only become truly apparent in the last few days, reaching a point where it couldn't be ignored and he could no longer hide it, but there had been signs before even if very few people had noticed. Merlin had a bad habit of not letting people worry about him and of hiding things when he shouldn't. It didn't help that his overall manner was extremely disarming.

Now, however, it was rather obvious that something was wrong. A quiet Merlin was never a good sign.

"This isn't the first time, is it," he said, already knowing that he was right. The silence that greeted him was confirmation enough. "How long?"

"It doesn't matter," came the quiet reply, but the servant still refused to raise his head, gaze fixed on the ground. "There's nothing anyone can do. It's just something I have to deal with on my own."

"Will you at least tell me what they're about?"

Silence.

Silence, and a rather firm look that _still_ wasn't being directed at him.

"Alright then, can you at least tell me what _this_ one was about?"

That earned him a reaction. Finally Merlin raised his head a bit, glancing up and meeting Elyan's eyes for a brief moment before he pointedly looked away again. There was another moment of silence before he finally heaved a sigh and slumped further against the tree. It was a sign of defeat, of someone giving in, and the knight fought the urge to smile, because this was something akin to a victory. Merlin was a stubborn person, and getting a straight answer out of him was at times a difficult and frustrating process.

It kind of made the knight wonder just what it was about him that made the boy feel like it was necessary to guard himself so adamantly.

"I don't remember much of it," Merlin said quietly. "We…we were in a field or a valley, I think. We all got separated, and everything around me was suddenly white. I couldn't see anything, and when I tried to move, it felt like everything was closing in around me. Before I knew it, I was falling…and then I woke up."

A wry smile crossed his face, and he finally raised his head enough to meet his friend's gaze.

"Not much of a story, I know," he said, making an attempt to sound amused but falling rather short. Instead the words came out sounding sad.

"You're wrong. We all have our own doubts and fears. Yours are nothing to be ashamed of."

For a brief moment, Merlin's eyes widened, clearly not expecting that, but his expression soon softened into a genuine smile. He still looked tired and a little haunted, but the self-deprecation that had tainted his previous smile was completely gone.

"Thanks, Elyan," he said, and the knight knew he meant it, that it wasn't just an empty word, one meant to placate or distract.

The knight gave a smile in return before getting to his feet. It was time for him to head back over to the fire and for Merlin to go back to sleep.

"I know you probably don't want to," he began, "but you should try and get some rest before we set off in the morning. We should arrive at the border sometime tomorrow, and something tells me you'll need it."

He didn't look entirely thrilled with that prospect, but he nodded in agreement anyway and crawled back into his bedroll. Whether he intended to sleep or to simply lie there, Elyan didn't know, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He had done all he could for now. He simply walked back over to the dwindling fire, tossed in another log, and took up his silent vigil once more.

Tomorrow, they would reach the border.

"_You one of those types then, the kind that thinks 'it won't be me?' Everyone who's ever crossed the border has gone in thinking like that, and none of them ever came back."_

Another log was fed to the fire.

"_Peasants, nobles, knights, thieves—all of us are the same in that regard."_

"_Don't go thinking you're something special."_

The flames leapt and sparked, the crackling of the embers filling the silence.

He prayed they were making the right decision.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** There you have it. I'll probably spend one more chapter on this kind of stuff (cause there are a few conversations that still need to happen) before jumping into the overall plot.

Again, thank you to all those who are reading and to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and alerted. You've made me very happy :)

Responses: And because I genuinely do appreciate all the feedback I get, I'd still like to answer all my reviews, so I still plan on responding to everyone I can't PM. If this bothers you, just say so. I won't be offended, and I won't take it personally, promise :)

CM: Thank you :) That means a lot, and I'm glad you're enjoying it. I was worried this fic would be a bit boring at first 'cause the plot moves rather slow, but I'm happy to know it's something to look forward to :)

SS: Glad to know you're enjoying it, and thank you for the feedback. I try to catch redundency as often as I can (though sometimes I do things intentionally) but it's not always an easy thing. I just sort of write, and whatever comes out comes out. I should probably spend a little more time on the re-reading part, I guess :) I'm glad you like my writing, and characterization is always something I worry about, so thank you! I hope this chapter turned out just as good :)


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Hello again! Another week, another chapter, albeit a very different one than I intended. There were two more scenes I wanted to put into this one, but it would've gotten too long if I had. I've only gone through this chapter once (and half of it was written today), so I hope it's still good :) If you find any errors, feel free to point them out.

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language.  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin, because if I did, I would definitely own a Kindle by now.

I know I didn't get around to replying to the reviews this time. The week didn't go the way it was supposed to. I'll definitely try to get to everyone this week though :)

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><p>CHAPTER 6<p>

The western border, or "the vale" as most people liked to call it, was a stretch of land far to the west in Cenred's kingdom. It was impossible to tell just how far it went or what was beyond it since it was blanketed by a thick sheet of mist that never seemed to lift. In the simplest of terms, it was a valley shrouded in fog, nothing spectacular.

The vale was exactly what they had expected it to be…and at the same time wasn't what they were expecting at all.

After spending their third day riding, they had finally arrived in the last village that the Camelot patrol had stayed in before they disappeared. It was a decent size, bigger than the last village they had stayed in, but the people there all went about their business with a slightly downtrodden mood. While leading their horses down the streets and towards the tavern where they would be staying for the night, all the people they passed just had a certain look about them. Words like "tired" or "weary" didn't quite fit, nor did "nervous" or "scared." There was just something different about the people, a mood that came from living so close to an enchanted vale and knowing that if anyone were to wander off into it, they likely wouldn't be seen again.

Oppressed, Merlin mused, was probably a much better term. Depressed seemed fairly accurate as well.

As the five of them reached their destination, they very quickly and quietly took care of the horses before grabbing all their bags and heading into the tavern. There was no banter, no complaining or arguing, and Arthur even carried two of his own bags as they walked through the door and into a much more subdued ambiance than their previous tavern visit. The people were all talking quietly amongst themselves, a bit of laughter spilling out here and there, but there were no boisterous stories being told or any roughhousing amongst the patrons. Everyone just seemed _tired_, and not in a physically exhausted sort of way.

_Hopeless,_ Merlin thought to himself as he looked around the room. _They're without hope._ That was what it was (not in the same way that Arthur often called _him_ hopeless, but in the sense that they had given up, couldn't see beyond the situation and had little choice in what they could do about it. Leaving wasn't always an option, not when the need to survive was so great).

Although the chatter didn't lessen, Merlin was quick to notice that a lot of attention fell on their group as they made their way towards the back of the tavern. Their village didn't likely get a lot of visitors, but the looks they were getting weren't ones of suspicion or surprise. He got the feeling that despite how few people came through here, the ones who did all probably came for the same reason. The villagers likely weren't used to strangers, but at the same time they weren't fazed by them.

Just one more group of fools, thinking they'll succeed where everyone else has failed. If he could read minds, he was certain he'd hear the same thing coming from all of them. He wasn't sure whether he should be ashamed of the fact that their thoughts more or less reflected his own.

"Welcome," greeted the tavern keeper, his smile seeming a little flat. He regarded their group curiously but didn't bother to question them on why they were there. "What can I do for you?"

"I need five beds for the night," said Arthur.

"Alright. In that case I can either give you five rooms, one bed each, or three rooms, two with two beds and the other with just one. Afraid we don't have any big enough to fit three."

"We'll take the three rooms." As tempting as having one room per person sounded, he needed to ration the money he had brought with. There was no telling how long they'd be gone or what they'd find after entering the vale. He needed to be prepared for anything.

The tavern keeper nodded and handed the prince three keys.

"Your rooms are on the right, just up those stairs."

"Thank you."

Finding their rooms and storing away their bags were tasks done swiftly with every intention of returning to the tavern. All the while, Arthur was debating whether to ask the tavern keeper about his patrol and about the vale, but he got the feeling that if he did, it wouldn't do him much good. He'd more than likely end up with the same story he got from Danigan.

However, it couldn't hurt to ask.

While his knights and Merlin made themselves comfortable at a table near the corner, Arthur went right up to the tavern keeper, taking a seat nearby.

"Well, boy, what'll it be?" the man asked, and Arthur had to fight the urge to glower at him for being referred to as a "boy" (he was Camelot's prince and acting regent. He was most certainly _not _a "boy"). As irritating as it was though, getting angry wouldn't help him any, only hinder his efforts. He needed some answers, and this man was his best bet at getting them.

"Just a tankard of mead, please," he said. The man nodded, and in no time at all, he was setting the drink down in front of Arthur.

"Anything else?"

"Yes, actually," he began, hesitating for only a moment as he debated whether this was a good idea or not, but in the end he decided to ask anyway. "I was wondering if you could tell me anything about the vale."

The reaction was immediate, and unlike the look of surprise he'd been expecting to get, the man only regarded him with something between sorrow and exasperation.

"I thought that might be it," he sighed in resignation. "It's why most travelers come here. I take it you're not from this kingdom then, are you."

Arthur gaped for a moment, having not expected that level of insight.

"How…?"

"All the people of this kingdom know the story, and they also know better than to come here looking for it. The only people that do nowadays are the ones who don't fully understand what they're getting into. A bunch of reckless fools, all of them—no offense."

"I assure you, I know what I'm walking into. I've heard the story. I don't know if I necessarily believe it, but I've been told about the vale more than once."

"Then why ask me? The story's the same no matter who tells it."

"I just want to see if you know anything more than what I've already been told."

Arthur kept his stare from wavering, but the other man's expression was just as determined. It was as if he were reading the prince, trying to gage his reasons, but whether he saw something there or not, he gave up in the end. With a deep sigh and a regretful tone to his voice, he started telling Arthur the same story that the prince already knew.

"Just beyond this village is the western border, that which we call 'the vale.' It's a valley covered in a thick mist that never fades. We don't know how far it goes or what's beyond it, but I imagine it extends for quite some distance. As far as I know, it's always been like that. We've traced it back quite a few generations, and there's no record of it ever being any different. No one knows why it's there or what it's for—we don't even know if it's natural or not—but what we do know is that everyone who has ever walked too far into the mist has never been seen again. It doesn't seem to matter who you are or what you're capable of—it's all the same in the end. You go in there, and you're as good as dead."

"I see…"

In the end, it was the same. The words were a bit different, but it was the same story. The only ones who had ever learned the full truth had all disappeared, never to be seen again. They had all taken the story to their graves.

"A few words of advice—_don't _get involved. It's one thing if you want to go risking your own life. It's another to drag your friends along with you. I for one wouldn't be able to live with myself if my arrogance were to get them all killed."

Arthur spared just one glance towards his companions, all of whom were enjoying their own drinks, talking and laughing amongst themselves. He gave his attention back to the tavern keeper, keeping a tight grasp on his irritation even as he tried to set the man straight.

"My reasons for doing this aren't the ones you think. A few weeks ago, a patrol from Camelot passed through here, guided by a man named Danigan. He came to us five days ago saying that they had crossed the border and didn't return. We rode out here to find out what happened to them, because if there's a chance that they're still alive, then it's my duty to see them safely back to Camelot.

"I'm not doing this to prove a point or because I see it as a challenge. I just want to know what happened to my men. I'm tired of speculation. I just want the truth."

"Even if that truth costs you your life?"

"It's a risk I'm willing to take, that we're _all_ willing to take."

The man just stared at him, clearly not believing those words, but he didn't question them and instead went back to whatever he had been doing before. Arthur chose not to say anything else on the matter and instead looked over to where the rest of his group was. They were still chatting, probably telling stories if the occasional laughter was anything to go by. They certainly didn't look like a group that was about to walk to their deaths.

Once more that feeling came over him, the one that made him feel like they'd all be alright. He wasn't sure how, but he'd find a way to make sure that all of them returned to Camelot. He couldn't accept anything less. It was illogical and probably more than a little capricious, but it was how he felt nonetheless.

As he continued to watch them, some of his thoughts from earlier on in the day started to resurface and he found himself growing more and more irritated by the moment. When they had set out that morning after packing up their camp, everyone had noticed (he was pretty sure all of them had even though none of them had chosen to acknowledge it) that despite having turned in earlier than all of them _again_, Merlin looked even worse than before. He had tried to hide it, making even more of an effort after a brief conversation with Elyan, but it was obvious that he was exhausted.

Merlin was liable to make himself ill at this rate. A person couldn't go for very long without a sufficient amount of sleep. If something wasn't done, the idiot would probably collapse, and because this was Merlin, he would likely pick the most inconvenient time to do so (not that there was a convenient time to collapse or anything, mind you, but that was beside the point). Tomorrow they would be heading into a place that could very well be more dangerous than anything else they had faced, and the last thing Arthur needed to deal with was a tired, ill, and even-less-coordinated-than-usual (if that were even possible) servant.

If Merlin kept this up, he was going to get himself killed, or someone else, for that matter. Not for the first time, Arthur found himself wondering just what it was that kept him up at night. Why wasn't he sleeping? What could possibly be so important or so terrible that he couldn't sleep? More often than not, people had trouble sleeping due to things like anxiety or fear, sometimes anticipation or dread. A person's thoughts could keep them awake, spurred by just about any kind of emotion if it was strong enough, but he didn't think that was quite the problem. After all, Merlin had no trouble actually falling asleep. He just had a problem with actually sleeping. For some reason, he kept waking up.

The most common reason he could think of would be nightmares, but he wasn't sure if that made sense or not. After all, they had faced far worse situations in the past, and he was pretty sure that Merlin hadn't suffered from nightmares then. _Of course,_ a voice whispered in the back of his mind, _you didn't notice this time until Lancelot pointed it out. What makes you think you would have noticed before?_

Arthur very calmly told it to shut up.

Regardless of whether this was a new problem or whether Merlin had been sleep deprived for a long time and Arthur just hadn't noticed, it didn't change the fact that something needed to be done. Merlin couldn't continue like this, and if the idiot didn't see fit to fix his problem himself, then someone would have to fix it for him. All he needed was a good night's sleep, a sleep that was deep enough to ward off all anxieties, even in the form of nightmares.

He only knew of one way to achieve that (well, two, but he didn't want to resort to the second. He got the feeling that Lancelot and Elyan would shun him, and Gwaine would likely try to kill him in his sleep if he ever tried it).

Arthur turned back to the tavern keeper, who looked back at him a bit skeptically.

"Yes?" he asked, sounding just shy of irritated. "Do you need something else?"

"I was wondering, does this village have a physician or an herbalist, someone of that nature?"

"We do, but why do you ask?"

Arthur spent one last moment deciding if he really wanted to do this, because despite being a brilliant idea, it was rather underhanded and had the potential to result in disaster (and bodily harm if the knights found out), but all it took was remembering how ill and despondent Merlin had looked that morning for his mind to be made up.

This was for the best.

"There's something I need them to do for me. Where can I find them?"

Merlin would thank him for it in the morning.

* * *

><p>It was well into the evening but still too early to turn in without drawing suspicion when Merlin finally decided to wonder why Arthur hadn't joined them. He had seen the prince talking to the tavern keeper for a while before he had walked out, claiming that he just wanted to get some fresh air and see if he could get some more information about the vale. They had offered to accompany him, but the prince had been rather adamant that they remain there and relax since they'd be up early the next morning.<p>

The warlock was pretty sure that Arthur just needed some time to himself. After all, they'd be heading into the vale tomorrow. Even though the prince often claimed that he didn't get nervous, there was no way he could be completely unaffected by the situation.

Less than an hour later, just as the sun was finally sinking below the horizon, Arthur came back. The prince didn't bother stopping by their table and instead went right up to the tavern keeper again, the two of them partaking in another conversation. The man had a slightly suspicious yet undeniably amused look on his face as he spoke to the prince, and Merlin wished he could hear what they were talking about. This conversation seemed a bit different than the previous one.

He was eventually drawn away from whatever Arthur was doing and back into the conversation that he _could_ hear. This time it was Lancelot telling the story, regaling them all with some of his adventures over the past few years. Merlin couldn't help but smile as he listened in, enjoying the easy going feeling that came from being surrounded by friends. There was a certain comfort in realizing that although not all of them truly knew who he was, they all still knew him and regarded him as a member of their group, even though they were knights and he was only a servant.

He wished that it could always be like this, that even after his secrets were no longer secret, they'd still see him the same way—as a _friend_, because that's what they all were to him.

Even if he were outed in the worst possible way and they were all forced to hunt him down, they would still be his friends.

Pulling himself out of his borderline depressing thoughts, he raised his head in time to see Arthur heading towards them, the handles of five tankards clutched in his hands. He walked up to the table, effectively drawing all their attention.

"Here," he said as he set down the drinks and began handing them out. "This round's on me."

Gwaine raised an eyebrow at that, and he wasn't the only one giving the prince a skeptical look.

"That's rather generous of you, princess," he said, earning him a glare. He quickly snatched his tankard up before Arthur decided to take back his oh-so-generous gift. "What's the catch?"

"Why do you assume there's a catch?"

"Because I've gotten to know you rather well, and you're rarely this considerate."

"Refusing to help you pay for some of your more costly trips to the tavern doesn't count as being inconsiderate, Gwaine."

"Well, I don't know what else you'd consider it."

Arthur was clearly resisting the urge to strangle the knight, and in the end he only sighed in a very put-upon way before rubbing a hand over his face in an attempt to chase away the agitation.

"Look, just consider it a thank you for choosing to come out here with me. I know that the situation isn't ideal and we have no idea what we'll be facing, but you all chose to be here anyway…and I'm grateful for that."

Usually after such an honest statement from Arthur, one of them would say something to ruin the mood or to poke fun at the prince, because declarations from him were a rare thing without being tainted by some sort of insult (that was usually the only kind of praise Merlin ever got), but this time no one said anything. Instead they regarded him much the same way they had all those weeks ago while sitting at the round table, pledging themselves to a man that they would one day be proud to call their king.

His gratitude was honest and heartfelt, and none of them were willing to taint it this time.

With a genuine and almost fond smile, Gwaine kicked out the extra chair that they had been reserving for Arthur, motioning for the prince to take a seat. As soon as he was seated, the knight raised his tankard while giving a brief nod to their leader.

"That, my friend, is a sentiment worth drinking to," he said, and all of them grinned while lifting up their own tankards in agreement.

After they had all taken a good long drink, Lancelot struck up a conversation by asking Arthur about what he'd learnt from the tavern keeper. While the prince regaled them with the scant information he had managed to gather, all the while expressing his annoyance at how little they still knew, Merlin found himself having a hard time focusing on what was being said. He could hear the words and knew that he was paying attention, but for some reason they weren't quite registering. He shook his head a bit and took another drink, wondering if maybe the mead was starting to get to him. Exhaustion and alcohol weren't exactly a good combination, especially for him since he wasn't exactly known for being able to hold his drink.

The warlock just sat there, unaware that he was staring into his cup as if it held all the answers to the world. The words being spoken in the background had become nothing more than a soft buzzing in his suddenly very fuzzy head, and he could no longer tell who was even talking let alone what was being said. Everything just suddenly felt too heavy, and before he even knew what was happening, his head found its way to the table, and he didn't much feel like moving it.

He was just so _tired_. He wasn't sure if he had _ever_ felt this tired before, and he couldn't seem to find the strength to fight off his exhaustion or the sleep that it would undoubtedly result in. He could feel a hand on his shoulder, and there was also a voice close to his ear. He wasn't sure what it wanted, but the hand was shaking him, and he wasn't at all in the mood to be bothered right now.

"I'm tired," he tried to say, but he got the feeling it came out sounding more like "m'tire." Honestly, he'd be proud if he had even managed _that_ much. He wasn't sure if they had understood him or not, but he didn't really care and instead allowed his eyes to finally close.

The moment they did, a wave of complete lethargy crashed down on him, and in no time at all, he was in a sleep so deep that it would give even unconsciousness a run for its money.

As Merlin slumped fully onto the table, one arm pillowing his head and the other still outstretched towards his tankard, Lancelot was doing his best not to worry. He had noticed the warlock growing more and more irresponsive until those blue eyes had glazed over completely. It was only when he had fallen forward onto the table that the rest of them had been alerted.

Not knowing what was wrong, he had tried to rouse the boy from the odd state he had ended up in, asking him if he was alright. Merlin had made a sad attempt at shrugging him off, mumbling something that sounded like "I'm tired," before his eyes had slipped closed, his whole body relaxing as his breathing evened out into a slower, deeper rhythm that came with being very deeply asleep.

The only problem was that no one could fall asleep that quickly unless something was wrong. Not too long ago he had been holding himself together rather well, not allowing himself to succumb to his obvious exhaustion, and then all of a sudden it had just snuck up on him. It was always possible that the warlock had simply reached his level of endurance and that thanks to the alcohol, he had simply given in faster than he normally would have, but he got the feeling that wasn't quite it.

"Is he alright?" Elyan asked, watching as Lancelot mulled over their friend's condition. Gwaine was watching with thinly veiled concern as well, waiting for the verdict. Only Arthur seemed to be unaffected by this turn of events.

"I think so," he said at last. "It seems he's only asleep, just very deeply."

"That's a relief," Gwaine said with a smile. "For a moment there, I was worried someone had tried to slip something into our drinks."

It was said in jest, but Lancelot clearly saw Arthur flinch, and unlike when Merlin had slumped onto the table, the prince was doing his best not to look worried.

_Strange…_

"He's been looking tired for days now," Elyan noted. "I suppose it shouldn't come as a surprise that he dropped off so suddenly. There were a few times today where I thought he might fall right off his horse, but he always managed to catch himself before it happened. If he really is that deeply asleep, then maybe he'll finally get a good night's rest. He'll need it."

Lancelot couldn't argue with that. If Merlin had managed to fall into a sleep deep enough to avoid having any nightmares, then maybe he'd finally be able to recover a bit. However, one night wouldn't be enough to fix weeks upon weeks of insufficient sleep. It wouldn't even be enough to make up for the last five days, but it would let them all rest a bit easier knowing that he'd be better prepared for whatever lay ahead for them when they entered the vale.

Even though it was far from healthy for him, Merlin was quite capable of functioning on very little sleep when it was necessary, but it was a habit that Lancelot had every intention of helping him break as soon as things settled down.

Still though, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that something about this wasn't quite right…

"Well then," began Gwaine, reaching for Merlin's tankard and easily lifting it out of his slack grip, "I guess he won't be needing this."

As the knight raised the mug to his lips, a lot of very suspicious things suddenly happened. Arthur's eyes went rather wide as he made to reach for the tankard, shouting out something along the lines of "No, wait!" Gwaine, of course, had already been in the process of taking a drink, and almost immediately after his fist sip, he went very still. It was also worth noting that Arthur froze not a moment after.

Lancelot watched the whole thing, wondering what was going on and knowing that he was close to finding out. He watched as Gwaine very slowly lowered the mug, a confused but firm look on his face as he swallowed what little he had drank and then simply stared at the liquid before him. His eyes narrowed a bit in contemplation as he swirled the mead around in the tankard (and all the while, Arthur seemed to be stuck somewhere between running away and sighing in exasperation).

"Is something wrong?" asked Elyan, breaking the silence around them.

"…This isn't just mead," Gwaine said, keeping his voice down. "There's something else in here, something bitter."

"Are you sure?"

"I know my drinks well, and I can tell when one's been tampered with."

"What's in it?"

"Now _that_ I don't know."

Lancelot looked between the tankard and Merlin, thinking that he had a pretty good idea of what had been put in that drink. The question was why, as well as how, two questions that Elyan seemed to be working through out loud.

"I don't see how anyone could've put something in it. Those drinks came straight from the owner, and Arthur was the one who brought them over."

The prince nearly choked on the mead he'd been sipping, lowering his tankard rather quickly and then pointedly not making eye contact with any of them. While Elyan kept talking, Lancelot kept his undivided attention on the prince.

"Besides," the knight continued, "why slip something into only one of them? There'd be no way of knowing who received it if they didn't serve it themselves. Why would…?"

Elyan's sentence tapered off, and from the corner of his eye, Lancelot could see that the other knight had finally noticed the fact that Arthur was behaving a bit strangely. It seemed Gwaine wasn't oblivious to it either. The prince was drumming his fingers against the table while his other hand clenched and unclenched around his tankard. He also wasn't looking at them, and although it was clear that he was trying not to look like something was bothering him, he instead looked like he was trying to hide something. Nervous wasn't a word often associated with the prince, and it wasn't really the right word now either.

Guilty, on the other hand, was a completely different matter.

"Sire," began Elyan, making sure he had Arthur's attention before saying in a very measured and yet very incredulous manner, "did you just _drug_ him?"

They all expected him to deny it as he looked at each of them in turn, all of them staring at him in a mixture of accusation and disbelief. After all, Arthur very rarely admitted to his faults, at least not openly, and so what actually happened came as a bit of a shock.

He completely caved, shooting them all an indignant glare as he ran a hand through his hair in exasperation.

"Well, what else was I supposed to do? He wasn't sleeping!"

The three of them just stared at their prince, unsure if they should be stunned at his blatant admission or angry.

"Would you have rather I knocked him unconscious then, because that was my second choice!"

"Let me get this straight," said Gwaine, setting the tankard down with a rather loud thud. When he spoke his voice was quiet, bordering on dangerous. "You drugged Merlin?"

"You make it sound like I intended to kill him or something. I only put a sleeping draught in his drink, that's all! He needs to get some sleep before tomorrow, and you know as well as I do that he would've refused to take it had I offered it to him. This was the only way."

The prince crossed his arms over his chest, being both obstinate and defensive. The look on his face challenged them to disagree with him but at the same time it made him look rather petulant. He probably knew that what he had done was nothing to be proud of, but he didn't seem to regret it. Arthur apparently believed that his actions had been justified. The prince's heart had clearly been in the right place, if nothing else, but his head had obviously been somewhere a bit more questionable.

In the end, it was Lancelot who broke up the silent staring match by heaving a sigh and getting to his feet.

"Regardless of whether your actions were the right ones to take, sire, what's done is done," he said before bending down and pulling one of Merlin's arms over his shoulders. "Gwaine, help me with him. We should get him upstairs."

Gwaine wasted no time getting up and went to support his friend from the other side. Together they maneuvered him through the crowded room, earning them just a few amused glances before disappearing up the stairs.

Once they were out of sight, Arthur released a breath he hadn't known he was holding, letting himself lean forward onto the table until his head was resting in his hands. For a moment there, he had been certain that Gwaine was going to punch him.

"You're certain it was only a sleeping draught?" he heard Elyan ask.

"Yes. I was very specific."

"Good. That's good, then. I just hope it'll be enough to let him sleep through the night. He can't continue like this."

Arthur raised his head, pulling his attention away from the table and focusing it on Elyan. What he saw had him wanting to ask a barrage of questions but not knowing how or where to start. Elyan wore a knowing expression, one that was slightly grave, and that was all it took for the prince to be certain that whatever was going on with Merlin, Elyan _knew_. He was pretty sure the same could be said for Lancelot and Gwaine.

Why was it that all his knights seemed to know what was going on when he didn't? How had they figured it out? He was the one that Merlin spent most of his time with, so why hadn't he noticed anything?

Arthur very quietly cursed his idiot of a servant for being so difficult along with the boy's irritating habit of hiding things. Why was it that Merlin felt it was necessary to keep things from him? Did he think that Arthur wouldn't care, that he'd be angry, or did he believe that the prince would just make fun of him for it if he knew? If it was something serious enough to be losing sleep over, then there was no way he'd ever hold it over him or use it as an insult. He wasn't cruel, after all, and even though he didn't often admit it (and never directly), the two of them were friends.

After everything they had faced together over the years, Merlin had to know by now that he could trust Arthur.

…Right?

"I think I'll turn in," said Elyan, drawing the prince away from his thoughts. "We have a long day ahead of us."

As the last of his companions left the table and disappeared upstairs, Arthur gave the tankard before him a wistful glance.

Suddenly he didn't feel much like drinking.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thank you to everyone who is reading and to all those who have reviewed! You all make me so happy, and you help me survive the week long waits between new episodes. I'm _really_ excited for Saturday. This is one of the episodes I have been waiting for :)

Until next week!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Not gonna say much today. It's late, I'm tired, and I have to be awake in five hours, plus I won't be getting home until late at night tomorrow. It's gonna be a long day.

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language.  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin, because if I did, I would definitely own a Kindle by now.

Not much to say about this chapter, I guess. It turned out very differently than I had intended though, but I rather like it overall.

If you find any errors, please point them out. This was proofread in pieces, so I don't know how well I did.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 7<p>

With a deep and very relieved sigh—relieved in more ways than one—Arthur let himself slump down onto the edge of the bed, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to relax. He could feel the beginnings of a headache stirring, which wasn't at all surprising given what he had just spent the last half an hour doing. He was pretty sure there wasn't a single person in the whole tavern who hadn't heard the conversation that came bellowing from the small room.

Sure, he had known that Gwaine was sometimes loud and extremely opinionated, not to mention a bit protective where Merlin was concerned, but he'd had no idea that he could be quite _that_ loud and opinionated and protective. Whereas Lancelot was quieter, more subtle, and a lot more respectful while showing his disappointment, Gwaine really hadn't held back (he _had_ refrained from using physical violence, though for a while there it had been a rather close call).

Under different circumstances, the whole thing would have been laughable, because really…of all the things they could have an argument over, it just had to be Merlin. More precisely, it had been about Arthur's way of dealing with Merlin—words like underhanded, cruel, dishonest, and a whole slue of other not so complimentary adjectives had been used to describe his actions—and then it had shifted into an argument that he hadn't expected to have.

Who was going to stay with Merlin?

That's where the real yelling had begun. Gwaine had been adamant that whoever shared the room with Merlin, it shouldn't be Arthur. Naturally that hadn't sat well with the prince. Whenever they were away from Camelot and fortunate enough not to have to sleep outside, the two of them always shared a room. Merlin was his servant, after all. He had to be there just in case Arthur needed something (which had yet to actually happen, but it was still a possibility). Therefore it only made sense that he be the one to stay.

For some reason, all of his knights had disagreed, even Elyan, and that had certainly surprised him since he had remained far calmer than the rest of them. Whereas Gwaine's reasoning had been that he clearly couldn't be trusted to look after Merlin given what his previous method had been when dealing with the boy, Elyan and Lancelot had spent their time trying to convince him that he'd be better off staying in his own room. They had even tried using his position against him, saying that if anyone deserved their own room, it was the prince. His status was higher than theirs, after all, and he had actually had a difficult time finding a way around that argument without sounding like he was trying to grasp at thin air.

He really hadn't expected such a huge debate over something that seemed so ridiculous, but the knights had all been adamant. It was worth noting though that while Elyan hadn't demanded or even suggested that he be the one to stay with Merlin, he had been pretty resolute in his opinion that it not be Arthur, and that made him a bit curious about the man's reasoning. Clearly he knew something about what was going on, and it had to be something that he either didn't want the prince to know or that he believed Arthur shouldn't know.

It was all so confusing and frustrating, and he really shouldn't have been surprised about either, because that was often how he felt when the topic was Merlin. For someone who seemed so simple, the idiot was anything but.

In the end though, after a lot of yelling from Gwaine and a lot of suggestions from Lancelot, the decision had been made. It had taken a lot of convincing (and by convincing, he really meant threatening and pulling rank, and no, he had most certainly not been on the brink of pleading when the first two hadn't been working in his favor no matter what anyone had to say about it) and more than one promise that he wouldn't do something like this again no matter how concerned he got, but in the end the knights had relented (or at least Lancelot and Elyan had. Gwaine had outright threatened his wellbeing). Afterwards they had all left to settle into their own rooms, leaving Arthur with an encroaching headache and a servant who was so deeply asleep that he couldn't even hear people shouting. Throughout the entire argument, Merlin hadn't even stirred once.

With another sigh, Arthur raised his head and looked across the room at his slumbering companion. Once again Merlin was sprawled out on his stomach, face half buried in the pillow, but this time Lancelot and Gwaine had taken care to remove his jacket and boots for him as well as turn down the bed so that he wasn't sleeping on top of the blankets.

He was the very image of peaceful…even though that peace had been drug induced. Perhaps, in hindsight, his idea hadn't been such a great one. He held no delusions that Merlin would find out, because if the boy didn't figure it out for himself, one of the knights would surely tell him (Arthur's money was on Gwaine). He couldn't imagine Merlin being too pleased with him, and for some reason that bothered him more than he thought it should. As strange as it seemed, he didn't particularly like it when Merlin got mad at him or decided to ignore him. It always made him feel like he had done something wrong.

Out of everyone he knew, not including his father, Gwen and Merlin were the only two people who could really make him feel like he actually was a prat, and whereas he understood why Gwen had that power, he didn't really understand why Merlin's opinion seemed to matter so much. For some reason it just did. He genuinely wanted that idiot to be proud of him, and he wanted him to trust him enough to stop hiding when something was wrong. Was that really so much to ask?

"Why must you be such a burden, Merlin?" he asked, glaring just a little at his sleeping servant. "You're definitely far more trouble than you're probably worth. I hope you know that the only reason I put up with you is because I need a challenge. I'd be terribly bored otherwise."

That, in part, was true, but it wasn't the complete truth. That was something he had no intention of sharing, _ever_, and he had a habit of repressing those kinds of thoughts every time they cropped up. Bits and pieces snuck through every now and again, disguised as insults and playful banter or occasionally as some light roughhousing, but for the most part he kept a very tight lid on it all. It's not that he was afraid or anything—princes don't get scared—but that he simply wasn't good at expressing things like that with words. It came rather naturally to Merlin, but Arthur was really only just learning how to be more open.

Someday he would find the words he needed to confront Merlin, but that day was still a long way off. He just hoped that when it came, the idiot wouldn't make fun of him for it like Arthur had done more than once in the past, but something told him that wouldn't happen, not when it really mattered.

He knew Merlin well enough to know that.

Quickly deciding that his thoughts were starting to get far too sentimental, Arthur shucked his jacket and his boots, placed his sword within reach because one could never be too careful, and then got into bed. It was late, he was tired, and they had a long day ahead of them. He only hoped that they would all get a good night's sleep for once, because something told him that they wouldn't be getting another opportunity like this for quite some time to come.

* * *

><p>A door slammed rather violently open as three people entered the room, the first storming in while the other two walked much more calmly. Both Lancelot and Elyan knew what was coming, and all it took was for the door to close before Gwaine spun around to face both of them, looking the very picture of anger.<p>

"The nerve—we can't just let him get away with something like this!" he nearly shouted, keeping his voice just quiet enough so that the prince two doors away wouldn't hear him. He was a hair's breath away from going back into that room and landing a good punch. Maybe that would be enough to get through that thick head of his.

"What's done is done," said Lancelot. "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do about it. He is our prince, after all."

"Are you defending him?"

"Look, let's just calm down for a moment, alright?" said Elyan, hands raised in what he hoped was a placating gesture.

"How come the two of you are acting like you don't care?" Gwaine asked sharply, his tone biting. "He _drugged_ Merlin! He went and got a potion from someone he didn't even know and then slipped it into Merlin's drink! What if it hadn't been a sleeping draught, huh? What if he had ended up poisoning him?"

"I'm not saying that I forgive him," said Lancelot. "I'm just saying that there's nothing we can do to change things. The damage has already been done. There's nothing more we can do about it."

"We could go back in there and demand he take another room. Someone else should be there to look after Merlin. Arthur's already proven he can't be trusted with him."

In some ways, Lancelot had to agree with Gwaine, but at the same time he knew that when it really came down to it, Arthur could be trusted to take care of Merlin. Even if the prince was too proud to outright admit it, Merlin was his friend, and he clearly cared a great deal about him. The knight had heard a lot of stories during the past two months about some of things that had happened in Camelot. It was true that Merlin was the teller of most of them, but he had heard quite a few from Gaius and Gwen as well. Leon had also had some rather interesting tales, but what almost every story he had heard had in common was Arthur and Merlin.

Wherever Arthur went, Merlin followed, and even though Arthur claimed that Merlin was the worst servant in all of Camelot, everyone knew that the prince would never get rid of him and would look out for him when it was necessary. Arthur had not only saved his servant's life a handful of times, but he had also kept him safe from his father's ire on more than one occasion. Arthur _did_ care. The problem was that he didn't know how to deal with it.

After all, before Merlin stumbled into his life, Arthur probably hadn't known what it was like to have a real friend, and how to treat one's friends isn't exactly something a prince is taught. He was learning though. Slowly but surely, he was learning.

"I think," Lancelot began, keeping his voice calm and even, "that just this once, we should give him the benefit of the doubt. It was never Arthur's intention to harm Merlin, and he didn't. In the end, it may even prove to help him."

"How can you defend him like that? He went and bought us a round of drinks, claiming it was a show of gratitude when instead it was just a way to drug Merlin! He only bought the rest to try and hide what he was doing!"

He really couldn't argue with that either, because that likely had been the prince's plan. After all, it would have been suspicious if he had come back with just a drink for Merlin.

Even so…

"They way he went about it may have been wrong, and I won't defend his actions…but I do understand his motives."

Arthur had only wanted Merlin to get some sleep. That was all, and because the prince didn't know how to deal with his friend properly, he had done the only thing he could think of (something that Lancelot knew Gaius had done to Arthur before). It was true that Merlin needed rest. He was going to run himself into the ground at this rate, and considering what they might be walking into, the warlock needed to be ready. He would only get himself killed if he went in half-asleep and with little to no stamina. Arthur had known that, which was why he had given Merlin a sleeping draught despite everything that could have gone wrong.

The situation they were in though couldn't _entirely_ be blamed on just Arthur. Merlin was partially to blame as well. Lancelot was certain that he had never met anyone so stubborn before. If the boy had simply _said_ something instead of constantly brushing things off, this wouldn't have happened. Throughout the day Arthur had enquired about the warlock's health, albeit rather offhandedly, showing actual concern even though it had been well hidden, and every single time he had asked, Merlin had lied.

"_It's nothing. I'm fine."_

Lancelot was beginning to hate those words. He imagined they all were. What he couldn't understand was why Merlin felt the need to hide this. Not one of them would make fun of him for it. It wasn't a secret he needed to keep unlike so many others. How hard would it be just to say that no, he wasn't fine, that he was exhausted because he was having trouble sleeping. Really, how hard was that? How hard was it to just admit that for once he wasn't "fine?" For Merlin it sometimes seemed like such a feat was nothing short of an impossibility.

Sometimes he wondered if after having spent so long hiding so much of himself that Merlin had somehow developed a habit of hiding everything. If only he had told Arthur the truth, told him that he couldn't sleep because he was having nightmares, then the prince wouldn't have resorted to such underhanded methods. Arthur clearly hadn't been able to think of a proper way to handle the situation especially since asking directly hadn't worked, and so he had resorted to the only thing he could come up with to help his friend, because that's exactly what he had been trying to do.

However foolish his actions, none of them could fault his reasons.

* * *

><p><em>Where am I?<em>

It was the same scene again—a valley, mist, no sky, no sounds, and everything tinted in gray. He couldn't see more than a few yards in any direction, and what he could see didn't help him any. Everything looked exactly the same, just grass and dirt and white.

Just like before, he had been walking with Arthur and the knights, trailing just a little ways behind, and then just like that they had all vanished. They had walked off into the mist, and no matter how hard he tried or how far he ran, he couldn't seem to catch up to them. Calling out did no good either. No matter who he shouted for or how loudly, the only answer he got was silence.

He was lost and alone, and there was nothing he could do about it. No one was even looking for him, it seemed.

What if something happened to them while they were wandering around out there? What if there was a creature lurking in the mist and it decided to go after his friends? If something attacked them, he wouldn't be able to help. It was his duty to protect Arthur, but how could he protect him if he couldn't find him?

What if all of them were left to wander through the mist until death came for them? A person could only last so long without food and water before starvation set in, and he also knew that someone could easily lose their mind well before that in a place like this. Neither option was pleasant, nor were any of the alternatives he kept coming up with.

He didn't know what to do. He couldn't remember ever feeling quite this lost before, and not just in a physical sense. That actually didn't bother him as much as the sense of helplessness did. Whether he stayed where he was or tried to move forward, nothing seemed to change, and nothing he had tried so far had worked. He was helpless and alone, and he _hated_ it.

He wasn't sure if it was because of his own predicament or because he was worried about what had happened to his friends, but there seemed to be a deep sense of dread building up, starting in the pit of his stomach until his whole chest suddenly felt tight with the ache of it. There was just something _wrong_ with this place, and it wasn't just because of the mist. The air itself felt thick and weighted, almost as if it had a physical presence. He wasn't sure how that was possible, but that was just how it felt.

He wondered if, wherever they were, Arthur and the others could feel it too.

"Arthur?" he called out tentatively, already knowing that he wouldn't get an answer but needing to try nonetheless. That pit of dread seemed to be getting wider, and it spurred him to move forward once more in the hope of finding someone. "Lancelot, Gwaine, Elyan! Arthur!"

His voice got louder and louder with each plea, but not a single call earned him one in return. The echo of his own voice was his only response…but that couldn't be right. After all, an echo would only occur if there was something for the sound to rebound off of, right? He was pretty sure that mist didn't count, and if that really was the case, then the valley wasn't just full of empty space.

There was something out there.

The warlock slowed his pace a bit, hesitant to go charging into something he knew nothing about. Unlike the last time he had had this dream, he could move forward without feeling like the world was closing in around him. In fact, this was rather unlike most of his nightmares to begin with since he usually didn't have free reign to move and think however he pleased.

Then again, maybe he didn't this time either. It was hard to tell if his "free will" was in fact his own or if it was only an illusion. He had no way of knowing for sure, and as he kept walking, moving even slower than before, he found himself almost missing the nightmares he had had before. Those he could understand, but this…

There was nothing he understood about this.

He wasn't sure how long he had been walking or whether he was even going in the same direction anymore. Everything looked exactly the same, and he had yet to see any sign of something being up ahead. The mist was still just as thick as before if not thicker, and the further he went, the heavier the air got. Even though he hadn't been exerting himself, he found that it was getting harder and harder to simply breathe. He might as well have been trudging through the thickest of mud or the heaviest of snow, because that's certainly what every step felt like.

And then, suddenly, as if he had crossed some sort of invisible line, the entire world _shifted_. He came to a dead halt; every instinctual and magical sense he had was suddenly screaming for him to run, but he didn't get the chance. The dense fog around him closed in, and in a vain but desperate attempt, he tried to call out for help only to find that just like the last time, he couldn't draw in air. It was too thick, too suffocating, like trying to breathe water, like drowning on dry land.

Panic quickly gave way to fear, and the more he struggled, the more everything seemed to cave in around him until all he could see was white. There was something very faint, a feeling at the very edge of his mind, almost like a presence. He tried to reach for it, hoping it would bring an end to this because he likely wouldn't last much longer. He needed to _breathe._

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't what he found.

A presence—sharp and pained, unnerving in the same way as when you feel someone staring at your back only to turn and find no one there. It felt like pain and fear, anxiety, exhaustion, all mixed up into a sorrow that was so dark and deep and _hopeless_ that it felt like he would never crawl out if he ever fell in.

_Who are you?_

It was a simple enough question, but for the life of him he couldn't answer. He was too busy drowning, falling further and further into the white. The last time this had happened, he had been able to wake up, but it wasn't working.

_Who are you?_

Why couldn't he wake up?

"_Merlin…"_

It felt like he was being dragged down, drawn in, and no matter how hard he fought it, how hard he tried to force his lungs to pull in air so he could _run,_ he just couldn't get away, couldn't call for help or even _breathe_. He grasped desperately for his magic, trying to make it stop whatever it was that was happening, but he just couldn't find the strength, couldn't focus…

"_Merlin."_

_Who are you?_

The white around him filtered in, consuming him until all he knew was loss and loneliness and fear, and all he wanted was to run, to call for help, and if only he could answer that one stupid question then maybe all of this would end, but he couldn't talk or think or _breathe,_ he couldn't—

"_Merlin!"_

And just like that, it all went away. Everything faded into emptiness, cold and hollow except for an unbearable ache that felt a lot like loss (and that was a feeling he knew all too well). He got the sense that he was floating even though he couldn't actually feel anything, and when he tried to look around, to find something other than just the blanket of white, he saw only one thing.

A pair of eyes the color of the sun…and steeped in a grief so raw that he could scarcely even fathom it.

The same question resounded through his mind once more, and even though there didn't seem to be enough of him left to respond, he found himself echoing it right back.

_Who are you?_

"_MERLIN!"_

* * *

><p>It started sometime during the middle of the night. At first Arthur wasn't sure why he was suddenly awake or what had managed to wake him, but it certainly didn't take him long to figure it out. From the other side of the room he could hear a great deal of movement, like someone kept tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable but failing miserably. The prince groggily sat up, blinking a few times and trying to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness around him, bathed very faintly in moonlight.<p>

What he saw had him wide awake and practically leaping from his bed to get to the other side of the room. As it turned out, Merlin was the one making all that noise, and the servant wasn't just tossing and turning.

He was _thrashing_.

At first Arthur didn't know what to do. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew that he needed to wake Merlin. Whatever was happening, it wasn't anything good.

"Merlin," he called, but his voice wasn't loud enough to break through. He tried to grasp the boy by his shoulders, but Merlin was moving around too much and Arthur didn't want to use too much force in case he ended up hurting him.

_What the hell is going on?_

Amidst the panic and the realization that he didn't have a clue as to how to approach this, he kept trying to figure out what exactly was happening. He watched his friend struggle against something he couldn't see, watched as Merlin's brow creased in what looked a lot like pain. His eyes were tightly shut and his mouth slightly open as he drew in each breath, fast and sharp as if he couldn't quite draw in enough air.

It didn't take long for the answer to dawn on him.

_A nightmare…_

Merlin was in the midst of a nightmare, the likes of which Arthur had never before seen.

Was this why he hadn't been sleeping? Did something like this happen often? Was it always this bad? Why wasn't he waking up when he clearly had the other times? Most people would wake up before it got this far, so why…?

Arthur froze, his eyes widening in realization. A wave of guilt immediately crashed over him as he stared down at Merlin with a sense of growing dread. The sleeping draught…

Apparently it hadn't been enough to chase away dreams, only enough to induce a deep sleep, and now…

Now, because of it, Merlin was trapped in a nightmare he couldn't escape…and it was all his fault.

He had to wake him up, _now_.

Merlin drew in a sharp breath like a gasp, his back arching off the bed before the thrashing got worse. He was going to end up hurting himself if he wasn't stopped. Arthur quickly threw caution to the wind and reached out, grabbing hold of his servant's arms and pinning them to the bed. Holding him there turned out to be a lot harder than he would have thought, because between the two of them Arthur was clearly stronger, but it was a struggle just to keep Merlin's arms still. He could feel every muscle straining beneath his hands and hoped that he wouldn't end up doing more harm than good.

"Merlin," he called again, louder this time, but still he wouldn't wake. The prince tried to shake him—a futile effort, most likely, but he couldn't think of anything else right now, not without making the whole situation that much worse. "Merlin, wake up!"

There was no mumbling, no muttering, not a single sound escaping him aside from each breath, and they were getting harsher by the second until he was all but gasping. If Arthur had been panicking before, he wasn't sure what to call this now.

"Damn it, just wake up! Come on, Merlin!" he yelled, no longer bothering to control his voice. He didn't care if he woke anyone else up. He could wake the whole bloody village for all he cared, just as long as Merlin woke up too. "You need to wake up!"

It didn't work.

_Nothing_ worked, and everything was just getting worse as Merlin continued to fight him, trying to fight off the grip he had, and Arthur couldn't tell if the sudden shaking he felt was coming from Merlin or himself, but he didn't care enough to figure it out. He tried to get him to settle down, but the more he tried, the more Merlin thrashed, and every gasp for air terrified and irritated him in equal measure. He just wanted it all to _stop_.

When those gasps turned into choked off breaths, he couldn't take it anymore. Each and every one felt like a stab to the heart.

"Merlin!"

He didn't know what to do. He couldn't take this, couldn't stand watching as Merlin struggled to simply _breathe_, but he had to help, had to do something, but he just didn't know _how_, he didn't—

With an almighty bang that would have woken the entire tavern had their been any other patrons, the door to his room was thrown open, and he turned his head to see his knights all standing there, looking worried but ready for a fight, only he wasn't in the type of fight they had probably been expecting. When they finally took in the situation and saw what the problem was, Arthur did the only thing he could do for Merlin.

He asked for help.

"Arthur, what…?" Lancelot began, but the prince didn't give him time to ask his question before the words were tumbling from his mouth.

"Help him," he begged, knowing he probably sounded desperate but finding that he didn't much care at the moment. "Please, I can't wake him. Something's wrong—he won't wake up, and I can't…"

Without another word, Lancelot moved across the room and over to the bed, followed shortly after by Gwaine and Elyan. When they got a good look at what was going on, they immediately understood why Arthur was so frantic. Beneath the prince's hands, Merlin was thrashing as if he were trying to get away from something. There was a sheen of sweat on his face, his eyes tightly shut, and his whole body was heaving as he gasped for breath and choked on the very air he was trying to draw in.

Something was very, very wrong.

Lancelot moved to where Arthur was, taking the prince's place after seeing that he was at his limit for handling this. Arthur was out of his depth in situations like these, but he kept his eyes glued to his servant, and for once his feelings were there for everyone to see. The knight was certain that not one of them had ever seen such a genuine display of worry from their prince.

Not wanting to waste any time, Lancelot quickly grabbed the warlock by his shoulders and shook him while at the same time trying to keep his body from arching off the bed. Merlin fought him every step of the way.

"Merlin," he called. "Merlin, you have to wake up."

The warlock wasn't listening; he just kept struggling, each inhale harsher than the last.

"Merlin, listen to me. It's just a dream. None of it is real. You're safe, Merlin, you just need to wake up."

Another choked breath.

"It's alright. Everything's alright, so wake up."

He didn't know if it was working or not, but he'd keep trying anyway. This wasn't the first time he'd been through this, although he had to admit that the nightmares had never been this bad before. He had watched Gaius the first time, watched as he assured his ward that everything was fine, that nothing had happened, that everyone was safe. Talking to him tended to work better than trying to force him to wake up. Merlin was stubborn, after all.

"Merlin," he called again, adding just a little shake to try and rouse him, but what happened next had him tightening his grip and falling into the same panic that Arthur had.

The warlock took one sharp, rasping breath…and then stopped. His whole body jerked violently, almost dislodging the knight as he held tightly to his friend, but Lancelot didn't let go and instead focused on the fact that Merlin was no longer gasping or choking or doing _anything_ that involved drawing in air whatsoever.

He wasn't breathing. He was still struggling, still thrashing, but he was holding his breath, as if he were incapable of taking another.

"Merlin."

He shook the boy, harder than before, but it didn't change anything.

"Merlin!"

He wasn't entirely sure, but he could almost feel something as he held onto the warlock, something that almost seemed to spark beneath his hands. It was like a flood of warmth and comfort and raw power, and he had only ever felt it a few times before, but he immediately knew what it was.

Magic.

Merlin's magic, to be precise.

He gave it one last try, practically lifting the boy a few inches off the bed before shoving him back into it, hoping that would be enough to get him to breathe.

"_Merlin!_"

A gasp—deep and full and _there_, and as he drew in that much-needed breath, jolting upright, Merlin's eyes finally opened.

They were burning _gold_.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So, what do you think? I promise things will eventually make more sense even though I did write most of this as a spur of the moment sort of thing. Planning isn't my strong point. Also, I know that I probably didn't draw some of these scenes out to the extent that some people may have wanted, but this is how I chose to write it and I've no intention of altering any of the sections.

Hope you liked it. I really liked writing Lancelot. He's like the voice of reason amongst them, plus he's just so nice :)

Ah, I had wanted to answer a question I was asked that I couldn't answer directly. Reshma, first I want to say thank you for the review :) And as for your question, I refer to Merlin as "boy" for multiple reasons. The first being that while I understand how it can be degrading depending on the way it's used, I don't see it as such. Also, throughout season 3, Merlin is still refered to as "boy" more often than not, and since this fic isn't that long after, I stuck with it. Plus, in my opinion it just seems to fit :)

Thanks everyone for reading and please feel free to review. Until next week!


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **It's late, I'm tired, and I have a doctor appointment tomorrow for my arm, which is actually getting better albeit very slowly. I've still got a long way to go, it seems.

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language.  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know. Feel free to let me know if you see something.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin, because if I did, I would definitely own a Kindle by now.

So...some of you might be disappointed. I won't say much more than that. The moment I started the previous chapter, I knew how I wanted this to go, and hopefully you'll all enjoy it. I certainly had fun writing it. There's lots of Lancelot :) His POV is quickly becoming one of my favorites.

This chapter has only been read through once, and some parts not at all, so if you find any big mistakes, please feel free to point them out. I'm pretty good at catching them as I make them, but most of this was written late at night when I'm not exactly the most observant. I'll probably go back through it tomorrow after my appointment.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 8<p>

The moment he saw those bright eyes, lit with undeniable magic, Lancelot knew he only had mere moments to make a decision, to do _something_, and staring at Merlin in shock wasn't an option. All eyes were on the two of them, and if he didn't act fast, one or all of them were bound to notice the fact that Merlin's eyes were no longer blue but molten gold. Thankfully they were standing behind him where they had been watching as he tried to wake Merlin, but they were moving now, all of them obviously concerned because despite being awake, Merlin was shaking and gasping, still haunted by whatever he had seen.

Lancelot did the only thing he could think of to both protect and comfort his friend. In one swift motion, he pulled the warlock towards him, hugging him with one arm around his back and the other pressing his head against the knight's shoulder where none of them would be able to see his face. He couldn't let them find out, not now and not like this, not when it wasn't Merlin's choice and definitely not when he was in such a precarious state. He could feel his friend trembling, his body heaving with each breath, and beneath his hands he could still feel that rush of magic.

No matter what, he couldn't let go of Merlin, not until that raw power was back under control. He sat down on the edge of the bed, shifting into a more comfortable position, aware of the other three closing in until they were standing around the bed, all looking worried but not knowing exactly what to do or how to break the silence. The only sound in the room was each and every ragged breath that Merlin drew, accompanied every once in a while by a pained whine, barely noticeable but still very much there.

"It's alright," he whispered. "You're alright, Merlin. It's over. You're safe now, everything's fine."

His words weren't enough to stop the trembling or the magic, but the warlock's breathing did start to improve, the gasps falling into something less panicked, less rushed, but it was clear that it was going to take a little while for him to calm down. Whatever he had seen, whatever he had experienced while trapped in that nightmare had been enough to stop him from breathing. It wasn't something he'd be recovering from any time soon.

Just what had he seen to put him in such a state?

Merlin had a rather bad habit of ignoring other people's concern towards his wellbeing, and even Gaius had had trouble at times getting Merlin to talk about what he saw at night, but this time around Lancelot wasn't going to let him get around it. He wouldn't accept anything but the truth. Merlin wasn't someone who was easily frightened, but whatever he had seen had reduced him to this—a trembling, terrified mess of a person. He needed to talk to someone, and that someone would have to be him, because out of all of them present, Lancelot was the only person who knew about Merlin and the only one who knew how to get him to talk.

"Lancelot?" Elyan began uncertainly, and when he looked up at his fellow knight, he could see the unasked question on his face. All of them were watching him much the same way.

"He's alright," he answered. "He'll be alright."

There was a collective sigh of relief, the tension draining away from the room, but despite his words and the fact that Merlin was slowly starting to relax against him, he still didn't let go. He couldn't risk it. Merlin was in no condition to protect himself right now, and Lancelot had made a promise to himself that he would do whatever it took to keep his friend safe. Right now the warlock needed him, and he had no intention of letting him down.

Lancelot turned his head until his eyes met Arthur's, and even though the prince looked truly concerned about his servant, the knight couldn't help but feel something a lot like anger tugging at his thoughts. However unintentional it had been, Arthur was the one who had reduced Merlin to this. He had trapped him in a nightmare that he would have awoken from long before had it not been for that sleeping draught. Two months ago, back when the nightmares had first started, Gaius had eventually given Merlin a potion to help him sleep, and while it had worked a few times and allowed the boy to get some sleep, the times that it hadn't far outweighed the rest. More often than not it had only made the nightmares worse, but never before had something like this happened.

Merlin had been trapped, alone and helpless, and although the prince had never intended to harm his servant, he needed to understand that his actions had consequences. Merlin was a good man, loyal and selfless and braver than anyone he had ever met. He didn't deserve this, didn't deserve to have his torment on display for everyone to see. Lancelot wanted all of them gone from the room, immediately.

"Sire," he began in a tight but controlled tone, letting none of his thoughts seep into his words, "I think it would be best if I stay with Merlin. He shouldn't be left on his own right now."

"But—"

Lancelot's eyes narrowed as he gave his prince a firm look (he wasn't glaring, because if nothing else, Arthur was still their leader, but at the same time he couldn't simply let the prince off easy either), his expression alone being enough to shut him up. The prince looked resigned, and after glancing at the still shuddering servant, that look twisted into guilt. He nodded his head, at a complete loss, before moving away and collecting his jacket and boots from by his bed.

While Arthur busied himself with grabbing his belongings, Gwaine walked up to Lancelot and placed a hand on his shoulder, his expression lacking it's usual carefree mirth as he regarded his fellow knight with both solemnity and gratitude.

"Look after him," he said, short and simple but to the point, and Lancelot nodded his consent, watching as his comrade made his way to the door. This left only Elyan by the bed, and as soon as both Arthur and Gwaine were out of earshot, he met Lancelot's gaze with a grim expression.

"The same thing happened last night," he said. "It was nowhere near as bad as this, but it was enough to keep him awake the rest of the night. I tried to help, but I don't know how much good it did. I hope you have better luck than I. He can't go on like this."

With that said, Elyan turned away and walked towards the door, closing it as quietly as he could on his way out, not wanting to disturb the silence that had settled upon the room. He trusted Lancelot, both as a comrade and as a friend. He would look after Merlin for them.

Out in the corridor, the scene that greeted him was very different from the one he had left behind, the silence tense and almost visibly sparking with ill concealed anger. Gwaine was glaring at an uncharacteristically subdued looking Arthur. The prince clearly wasn't taking any of this well, still a bit shaken and a little lost over the whole thing, but Gwaine didn't seem to care. He had his fists clenched at his sides, and his voice when he spoke was soft and steeped in ire.

"Are you happy now?" he asked, but Arthur was refusing to look at him. "Do you see what you've done? Your actions almost got Merlin hurt. You're lucky Lancelot was able to wake him, otherwise I guarantee you wouldn't be standing right now."

"I…I didn't mean to—"

"I don't care what your intentions were. It doesn't change the fact that you drugged him. He's loyal to you, _trusts_ you, and this is how you repaid him."

Gwaine took a step closer, and for one moment Elyan was worried he might actually punch the prince, but he kept himself in control and only glared as Arthur finally met his gaze.

"I want your word," the knight began, "that you'll never do something like this again. Promise that you'll never abuse the trust he's placed in you."

Elyan watched as Arthur straightened up from his hunched position, finally meeting Gwaine's glare head on. He nodded once, an earnest but somewhat defeated look on his face, grim and shadowed but determined all the same.

"I promise," he said quietly, unable to keep the guilt out of his voice. "You have my word."

Gwaine held his gaze for a moment more before turning around and heading back to his room, the one with the single bed. It hadn't been an easy decision to make, who would get their own room, but since Gwaine had still been so frustrated when they had all turned in, letting him be on his own had seemed like a good idea. Gwaine wasn't the type to reign in his thoughts and emotions, often acting on impulse or his whims instead of mulling things over. He hadn't been particularly happy with the way his two comrades had chosen to handle the situation.

Of course, just because Lancelot hadn't seemed angry with Arthur didn't mean he wasn't. Elyan had gotten to know him well enough to know that he didn't often express things like anger or frustration. It often came out as disappointment instead, and this time was no different, but that didn't mean that under that calm and reasonable exterior wasn't a well of righteous anger. If Lancelot was going to get angry, it would always be in the defense of someone else. He was very much the kind of person who would defend others before ever defending himself. He was a good, honest man, and at that moment there was no one better suited to take care of their younger companion.

Elyan only hoped that whatever it was that seemed to be haunting Merlin was nothing more than anxiety and not an omen of things to come.

"Sire," Elyan called softly when he noticed that Arthur had yet to move from his spot in the corridor. The prince looked up at him, uncertain. He looked like he was preparing himself in case he were yelled at again, a slight scowl on his face. Lucky for him, Elyan had no intention of scolding him. Gwaine had done enough of that for them all. "It's late, and we have a long day ahead of us. We should try and get some sleep."

"…Of course," he responded just as quietly before heading to the other room. Elyan cast one last look at the door in front of him, silently wishing Lancelot good luck, before following after his prince.

Something told him that none of them would be getting a good night's rest tonight.

* * *

><p>As soon as everyone had left the room, Lancelot relaxed his grip on Merlin, letting the boy sit up on his own as he very slowly pulled away. The warlock's head was hanging down, his body slouching forward now that he wasn't being supported, but the knight placed his hands on Merlin's shoulders to help steady him as well as get his attention, because even though he wasn't trembling anymore and his breathing had finally evened out, it was clear that whatever he had seen hadn't left him yet.<p>

"Merlin," he called quietly, but there was no response. He gave him a very light shake, trying to urge him to focus. "Merlin."

Very, very slowly the warlock raised his head, and Lancelot breathed a sigh of relief when he saw two blue eyes staring back at him. Amidst his moment of well concealed anger, he hadn't even noticed that the rush of power he'd been able to feel flooding through Merlin had completely faded. Whatever it was that had triggered his magic was gone now.

"Are you alright?" he asked, watching as those eyes became a bit more focused. Merlin still looked exhausted, like he was barely managing to stay awake, but he nodded in response to the question.

"I'm fine," he whispered, the lie slipping out as if it were only natural, as if that was the only response he knew.

"You're not fine, Merlin. You were having a nightmare."

The warlock lowered his head, an ashamed, self-deprecating look crossing his face. It was disheartening, helpless and vulnerable—it made him look so much younger than he was, and Lancelot found himself feeling angry again on his friend's behalf. That sort of look didn't belong there, not on Merlin, and he hated whatever it was that had caused it.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," he said earnestly. "It isn't your fault."

Merlin nodded again but didn't say anything, his eyes still cast downward, although Lancelot got the feeling that he wasn't actually seeing anything. There was a far off look in his eyes, unfocused and glassy, as if he weren't entirely there. A part of him was still trapped in the nightmare, his mind too foggy and tired from too many sleepless nights and the sleeping draught that was still coursing through his body.

"Merlin," he called again, just to make sure he had the warlock's attention. "Will you tell me what you saw?"

"No," was the immediate answer, firm and full of conviction as he shook his head. "I can't."

"Why can't you?"

"I…I just _can't_," Merlin said a bit desperately, looking up at the knight once more and praying that he'd understand. He didn't know how to explain, couldn't find a way to put his dream into words. There just weren't any, because everything had just been white and desolate and so full of loneliness that he didn't know how to even begin trying to explain it. He could still feel everything, like an echo inside him, as if he were still back in that place, lost and helpless and drowning in sorrow that wasn't even his own.

He couldn't go back to that place, because he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to come back out if he did. A part of him knew that the feeling was illogical, that it had only been a nightmare, but his head felt heavy and clouded, and he just couldn't shake away that intense despair that had filtered in, a grief so deep that he could scarcely even fathom it, so full yet so empty at the same time.

If he went back there, he was sure the despair would seep into his very bones and _stay_.

"I can't go back there, not again," he whispered, and he knew his voice was shaking and that his words wouldn't make much sense, but he had to try to make Lancelot understand, make him _see_. "I can't, it was _wrong_. Everyone—everything was gone, and I couldn't breathe—it hurt to breathe, _everything_ hurt, and it wouldn't _stop_."

"Merlin," Lancelot called softly, but he couldn't get the warlock's attention as Merlin kept talking, apparently no longer in control of the words spilling from his mouth.

"It wouldn't leave me alone, and I couldn't answer it—I tried, but I couldn't, and everything felt lonely, like death, but it's not _mine_. It's not mine—it wasn't mine, and I don't want it to be. Please, I just can't—"

"Merlin, it's alright," Lancelot said, breaking through his rambling attempt at an explanation. The knight tightened his grip on the warlock, not enough to hurt but enough to hopefully ground him, to give him something to hold on to. That wide eyed stare, pleading and fearful was enough to shatter his earlier resolve, his determination to get an answer. He just couldn't do it, not like this. "It's alright. I'm sorry, I won't ask again. You don't have to tell me."

Despite his words, he couldn't deny the fact that he wanted to know. He wanted to know what Merlin had seen, what had disturbed him so greatly that he couldn't talk about it. The warlock looked terrified though, and so he wouldn't push for an answer. He would never be that cruel. As much as he wanted to help his friend, he knew when to fall back. This was apparently something that Merlin had to deal with on his own, even though he wasn't coping all that well at the moment. Part of it was because of the exhaustion; his mind was tired and couldn't seem to process what was going on. He looked about ready to drop off again at any moment.

The other part had a lot to do with anxiety. With everything that had happened and everything that still could, it was no wonder that it was all building up, piling higher and higher and just waiting for him to shatter under the pressure. As strong of a person that Merlin was, everyone had a breaking point.

"I'm sorry," he heard Merlin whisper, barely audible even in the silence.

"Don't be. You've nothing to be sorry for."

The warlock nodded again, his eyelids drooping over those glassy eyes, a sign that he wasn't likely to be awake for much longer. Merlin was still very much in a drugged state and had been ever since he'd woken up. His gaze gave the impression of being only half there, and Lancelot wondered just how much of this he would remember come morning. With any luck, not much at all.

Merlin's whole body suddenly gave way, and so the knight very carefully guided him back down to the bed. There was a sleepy murmur from the warlock, followed by a very quiet sound of distress, but Lancelot simply let him go, untangled the blankets, and pulled them back up until he was once again settled.

"Go to sleep, Merlin," he encouraged. "You're safe here, I promise."

For a long moment, the warlock just watched him with half-lidded eyes, as if he were judging those words, deciding if he could truly trust them. It wasn't until that gaze softened that Lancelot knew he had been successful. There was one last sleepy murmur, a very quiet but heart-felt "thank you" before the warlock's whole body relaxed, and after just a bit of shifting to get comfortable, he fell back into the realm of sleep.

Lancelot watched for a while, making sure that Merlin really was sleeping before walking over to the other bed. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to fall back asleep after everything that had happened, his mind still so full of questions and contemplations, but he knew he had to try. There was still so much to do though. He knew that when he woke, he'd have to talk to the rest of their group and try to explain what had happened. He was going to have a lot of questions to answer, and it definitely wasn't a conversation he was looking forward to.

No matter what though, he would do what was necessary to protect Merlin, and if that meant lying to his fellow knights and his prince, then so be it.

But that was a problem for the morning. For now he was going to get some sleep, and he prayed to whoever would listen that it would be dreamless.

* * *

><p>When morning dawned and a few rays of sunlight filtered into the room, Lancelot found himself waking up to a sight he couldn't have been more grateful for. He sat up and rubbed his eyes a bit just to make sure he was seeing clearly before once more looking at the other bed across the room. Lying there sound asleep was none other than Merlin, arms tucked up beneath his pillow and his face half buried in it. The knight couldn't help but smile at the sight. After everything that had occurred last night, it seemed that some good had come from it after all.<p>

Of course, one night wasn't enough to make up for almost two months of inadequate sleep, but it was indeed a start. If nothing else, it would last him most of the day.

Lancelot got up as quietly as he could, not wanting to wake the warlock, and went to the door. As soon as he was out in the corridor, he walked over to his previous room in order to collect his stuff. He had left everything behind when he and Elyan had rushed from the room after being awoken by Arthur's shouting, and there hadn't been time to go back and collect it before everyone had turned in again.

When he reached the room, he found that it was empty, which meant that the others were probably all awake and down in the tavern somewhere. He pulled his boots back on and grabbed his bags before heading back out, making just one quick stop by Gwaine's room only to find that he was already up as well (a bit unusual, but not all that surprising given what their night had been like. His sleep had been fitful at best, and he imagined it hadn't been much better for the rest of them).

With nothing left to do, he made his way down the stairs and into the tavern. There were already a few people there, some just relaxing and others having a meal. His attention was immediately drawn towards his companions, all three of them sitting at one of the tables, and as he had suspected, it looked like none of them had gotten much more sleep last night. While they didn't look anywhere near as exhausted as Merlin had been looking the past few days, it was still obvious that they were tired.

Lancelot made his way over, all of them turning to face him as soon as he was close enough for them to see. He was met with three very anxious looks, each one a different intensity but still very much concerned.

"Lancelot," Elyan greeted with a nod, and the knight gave him one in return before taking his seat. He was pretty sure he knew what was coming before another word was even spoken, and sure enough they didn't disappoint.

"So," began Gwaine in all seriousness, "how's Merlin?" It was the question on all their minds.

"He's sleeping," he said, noticing that all of them relaxed a little after hearing that. "I figured it was best not to wake him yet."

"So he's alright then?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Did you find out anything about what happened last night?" asked Elyan, that question causing all of them to look at him in anticipation, waiting for an answer. They all wanted to know just what had caused such a severe reaction in Merlin, but Lancelot had sincerely been hoping against all odds that they wouldn't ask. He didn't want to answer that question; he wasn't even sure if he _could_. Merlin's answer hadn't made much sense to him (it probably wouldn't have made much sense to anyone, and there was a good chance that not even Merlin had known what he was saying). Also, it wouldn't be fair to tell them something that had been divulged in confidence. He couldn't betray his friend like that.

Besides, he was still holding out hope for the possibility that Merlin wouldn't remember anything once he was awake.

"I did…" he began, and all of them leaned forward a bit, eager for him to continue…only for him to severely disappoint them, "but it isn't something I can tell you."

"What? Why not?" asked a rather indignant Arthur, but he was silenced rather quickly by the look Lancelot shot him. It was clear that the prince was still struggling a bit with what had happened if one look was enough to quiet him. Arthur was a stubborn man, but after his actions the previous day and the reactions they had earned him, he was holding himself back. It was probably for the best, because no amount of pushing was going to change Lancelot's mind.

"Because you didn't see what I did," he told them with grim resolution. "Even if I wanted to tell you, I wouldn't. I could never betray him like that. Merlin barely told me anything about what he saw, but I understood well enough not to push for answers. I wasn't about to force him to relive his nightmare…and so I believe it would be best if we simply forget that it ever happened."

He was expecting some resistance, especially from Arthur and Gwaine, but all of them simply stayed quiet, seemingly contemplating his suggestion. He honestly believed that it was for the best. Asking Merlin about his nightmare would not only put him in a difficult situation, but it would also make him extremely uncomfortable. It wouldn't be fair, and besides…even if they _did_ ask him, he would probably just lie, would downplay the reality of it so that none of them would worry about him. That's just the way he was. Better not to bring it up at all if it would only make things worse.

The silence between them stretched on for a while, but in the end there wasn't much choice. They certainly couldn't force him, after all. Besides, he knew that they felt much the same way as he did about Merlin (even if not all of them were able to admit it).

He was someone worth protecting.

"…Alright," said Gwaine, the first to break the silence. "I won't ask about it. I have no intention of forgetting, but I promise not to say anything to Merlin."

"You have my word as well," Elyan told him in all sincerity, which left only Arthur to give his consent. The prince didn't look very pleased with the request, but in the end he merely heaved a sigh and slumped against the back of his chair.

"Very well," he relented. "I won't ask him about it, but Lancelot…I want you to answer one question for me first."

"What is it?"

"…Has this happened before?"

He didn't want to answer. He _really_ didn't want to answer, but in the end he knew that he owed Arthur at least this much. Besides, he had never fully agreed with Merlin's decision to hide this to begin with. He wouldn't give any details, but he _would_ answer, and he would do so honestly.

"Yes."

Arthur's expression tightened, his eyes narrowing and the corners of his mouth turning downwards into a frown. His hands were clenching into fists where they rested on his legs, his whole body tensing, and Lancelot couldn't tell if he was upset because he was mad at Merlin for not saying anything or because he was worried and anger was just how Arthur sometimes dealt with concern. Both were equally as likely.

The prince was just about to say something when the subject of their discussion came down the stairs and immediately sought them out, looking much better than before. His eyes were still a bit shadowed and he still looked pale, but the exhaustion no longer seemed to be radiating from him.

He did, however, look somewhat annoyed.

"Why didn't any of you wake me?" he asked. "I thought we were heading out at first light. It'll be midday in a few hours."

They all just stared at him for a moment, unsure exactly how to proceed now that Merlin was right in front of them, but the awkwardness didn't last for long.

"There's no rush," said Gwaine, slipping easily back into his typical nonchalant attitude. "It's better to be well rested, don't you think?"

Merlin only gave the knight a half-hearted glare before taking his seat at the table. Lancelot watched him for a moment before glancing at the rest of them. It was almost funny seeing the expressions on their faces, because the question they all wanted to ask was written there clear as day. Unfortunately, asking Merlin if he was alright would hint at the fact that something was wrong, and it was hard to tell if he even remembered what had occurred during the night. However, given the fact that Merlin was actually really easy to read when you knew what to look for, not to mention a terrible liar, the odds were that he didn't. He had been exhausted and shaken, not to mention drugged at the time, and so it wouldn't be farfetched at all for him to have no recollection of what occurred.

Maybe Lancelot would talk to him about it later, just to see if he really had forgotten, but for now he would just pretend that nothing had happened. If Merlin wasn't going to bring it up, then far be it for any of them to.

"So," began Gwaine, obviously getting tired of the silence, "how about we find some food? I for one am starving, and I could do with a drink as well."

"A drink?" asked Elyan, incredulous. "It's not even midday!"

"That's why I said _a_ drink. Just one won't hurt any."

As Gwaine continued to defend his point, Lancelot couldn't help but smile as things began falling back into place. The easy, almost lighthearted ambiance between them had vanished the previous day, but it was already starting to return, slowly but surely.

However…

Even though Merlin hid it well, he was still haunted, the traces of his nightmare lingering behind those blue eyes, and although he was grinning at Gwaine's antics, his smile was nothing like the sunny grin they were all used to.

And while Merlin continued to hide behind a jovial pretense, Arthur was watching him. Now that the prince knew something was wrong, he would be looking for every crack, every flaw in the warlock's façade. He was no longer completely blind to his friend's torment, and if Merlin wasn't careful, he could end up losing far more than just one secret.

No, this wasn't over yet, not by a long shot.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** There you have it. Yes, no magic reveal. That was never part of my plan for this fic, really, 'cause that kind of situation isn't my focus for this story. It changes the dynamic. I do eventually plan to write a post S3 fic with a reveal though, 'cause I love the knights, and it would be fun writing one with so many different reactions. So, yeah...I'm sure I probably disapointed some, but this is how I always knew it would go, and I hope you enjoyed it regardless :)

Until next week!

**Review responses:** For the anonymous reviews, cause I can't use the reply feature but I still want to say thank you :)

Reshma: Thanks for the review, and it seems you totally read my mind :) You had the scenario figured out rather well. Indeed, it wouldn't have been an ideal time for poor Merlin's magic to be revealed. That would have been far too mean of me :) Glad you liked the last chapter, and I know I didn't make Lancelot that upset, although he did get a bit angry this time. As mean as it is, I like them being mad at Arthur about Merlin, because he does often take his friend for granted, it seems. And fair point about the whole "boy" thing. I just have a hard time seeing him as anything else since he's so adorable, but I'll probably cut back on the number of times I use it. After all, there are many other nouns available to me :)

CM: Thank you, and I hope this chapter was just as enjoyable :) I hope the way I resolved the cliffy was fun even though it ended up not being a reveal. I just couldn't help myself when the opportunity presented itself for such a fun cliffhanger (I'm a little bit sadistic). The first part of your review had me laughing when I read it :) It turns out I did have good reviews to look forward to when I got home :)


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Well, here's the next chapter! I'm so sorry about missing last week. It shouldn't happen again. Things didn't work out the way they were supposed to. I was supposed to spend last Sunday writing. Instead I spent it at Urgent Care and then in bed, which is also how I spent most of Monday. I will never forget to get a flu shot ever again, as this isn't an experience I want to repeat. I've also officially beefn sick for more than 6 weeks now since I never fully got over my previous cold. Awesome.

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language.  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know. Feel free to let me know if you see something.

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own Merlin, but I do finally own a Kindle! Thank you parents!

I know I didn't do any review responses for the last chapter. I meant to. I'll definitely do them for this one though, promise :)

Anyway, this chapter took a long time to write, and I'm not sure I'm 100 percent happy with it, but it was necessary to help set things up. We're getting into the actual plot now, most of which I've had worked out for a long time, and I'm hoping I'll be able to keep you all guessing as we go along. The next chapter will really get into the thick of things :)

Onward!

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 9<p>

It was sometime after midday that they finally decided to head out. It had taken a great deal of discussion and planning to decide how to best go about it, but in the end they had decided that it would be best not to take the horses. Despite the advantage having them could prove, it was clear that something was extremely wrong about the vale. No matter how well trained the animals were, they still had a tendency to be able to sense when something wasn't right. A frightened horse could prove to be dangerous, and the last thing they needed to do was add to their problems. If the horses were to end up tossing them all off and running away, then they'd be left stranded in the middle of nowhere without any supplies. Therefore, it was best to go on foot.

However, this meant that they would have to carry all their bags, most of which included chainmail. They hadn't wanted people to immediately know who they were while traveling (though apparently they stood out anyway), so they had been dressed in just their regular clothing. That meant that most of the bags were rather heavy and wouldn't be much fun to carry for long periods of time. Therefore they had needed to decide how to proceed without going in underprepared.

In the end the choice hadn't been too hard to make. The knights had all donned their chainmail and their swords, divided all the provisions between just three bags, and left everything else behind with the horses. If all went well, they'd only be gone for a couple of days. Surely it wouldn't take longer than that.

"Alright, let's get going," said Arthur as all of them stood at the very edge of the village, facing the shrouded vale. Despite the command in his words, the prince couldn't help but feel just the slightest bit uneasy. It was the first time throughout the quest aside from the warning they'd received from that bandit where he got the feeling that something wasn't quite right. Nevertheless, he wasn't the type of person to give in to those kinds of thoughts, and so without further adieu, he took his first few steps into the mist, his knights and Merlin following not a moment later.

He had honestly been expecting something to happen, anything, but in the end it didn't seem any different than walking through a valley in the early light of dawn when the world sometimes seemed to be blanketed in a cloud of mist. There was no change in the air, no sudden drop in the temperature. He couldn't see that far ahead, sure, but what he could see seemed normal enough.

After everything he had heard, all the ominous repetitions, he had been expecting something a little less anticlimactic.

As Arthur led them all onwards at a steady pace, the knights following him readily enough, he failed to notice that Merlin didn't seem to share his opinion in the slightest (to his credit, Merlin was doing a good job of hiding it, not to mention that it was a bit hard to see in the mist). The warlock kept looking around, his expression composed but his eyes wary, as if he were just waiting for something to go horribly wrong.

It was more than that though. There was an anxiety about him that came from more than just walking into the unknown, and it didn't go unnoticed. Having chosen to follow behind his fellow knights so that he'd be closest to Merlin, Lancelot could easily see that something was bothering the boy, something beyond the exhaustion that had been plaguing him for so long. As inconspicuously as he could, he slowed his pace and dropped back until he was walking side by side with Merlin.

"Is something wrong?" he asked quietly, not wanting to alert the others to their conversation.

"No," Merlin replied just as softly although he seemed unsure about his answer. "I…I don't know."

The warlock kept glancing around, acting far more self-conscious than usual. It was a bit unnerving and more than a little unsettling. Eventually though, Merlin heaved a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping under a weight that had nothing to do with the bag he was carrying (he had insisted on carrying one even though they had told him he didn't have to. Funny how Merlin complained about their lack of charity when he didn't need it and shrugged off all their attempts when he did).

"This place is just unsettling," he said. "It's too…similar."

"Similar to what?"

"…Nothing, never mind."

Merlin lowered his head, staring resolutely at the ground while he walked, but Lancelot had caught the slight shift in his expression, the flash of fear before the warlock had looked away, and he immediately knew what he'd been thinking about. Merlin wasn't often scared, but last night he had been, and it was clear that whatever he was thinking about had something to do with his nightmare.

Could it be that he'd dreamt about the vale? Was that why he seemed so unsettled with their surroundings? Lancelot had avoided asking about the dream, not wanting to remind his friend about it just in case Merlin really didn't remember what had happened, but even if he didn't seem to recall waking up in the middle of the night, he clearly seemed to remember what he'd seen. As much as he wanted to know, he also knew not to push. There were just some things that Merlin didn't talk about, and it seemed his nightmares were one of them.

They all continued on in silence, staying focused on their surroundings, ready for anything that might come their way. They had no idea what to expect, and as far as they knew there could be any manner of creature waiting for them in the mist. However, the further they went the quieter it seemed to get. Their footfalls were the only sounds. There was no wind to rustle the grass, no leaves on the ground to crunch, no birdsong, no animals…nothing. It was completely dead around them. The grass was a muted green and the mist a shade between white and gray. They couldn't see the sky through it, not a single ray of light could seem to pierce it, and even though they could see in front and behind them, they couldn't see that far…and all of it looked exactly the same.

The further they went, the more uncomfortable Merlin became, and for good reason. He had long since stopped staring at the ground, glancing around nervously. The more he took in, the more he found that it was exactly like his dream. The only difference was that he hadn't lost sight of the knights. All four of them were visible within the mist, and he made sure not to look away for too long, wanting to keep them all within sight just in case something happened…and not even an hour into their trip, something did.

It was a strange thing, really. One moment he was fine (edgy, but fine), and the next his whole body froze. It was as if he'd suddenly crossed a line of some kind, and the moment he stepped over it, _something_ changed. Whereas before he had been uncomfortable because of the similarities between their surroundings and his nightmare, he was now uncomfortable for a completely different reason. It was as if all his senses had been dulled before, as if he had been viewing everything from an outside perspective, but not anymore.

Every sense he had, instinctual and magical, was screaming at him to turn back, to run, because whatever this place was, it wasn't safe. It was distorted and _wrong_.

"Merlin?"

The warlock looked up to see that Lancelot was standing in front of him, watching him with unveiled concern, and just a few paces ahead, everyone else had stopped to look at him as well. He knew he couldn't possibly look good right now, not when his stomach was churning like he was about to be sick. All his senses were overwhelming him, draining what little energy he had and making it feel like someone was pounding on his head. He felt ill, more so than he could ever remember feeling.

"Merlin, what is it? Are you alright?"

He barely registered the question, drawing in a deep breath to try and calm himself. He hadn't even realized that he was shaking or that Lancelot was gripping him by the shoulders, both to get his attention and to keep him from suddenly falling to the ground.

"Merlin, what's wrong?" he asked, a bit more firmly this time, and when the warlock finally looked at him, Lancelot immediately knew that something was horribly wrong. There was fear in those eyes, deep and terrified, and Merlin had gone far paler than he had ever seen him before.

"We shouldn't be here," the warlock said, his voice shaking. "There's something wrong. We need to turn back. We have to leave, now, before it's too late."

"What _are_ you talking about?" asked Arthur, and Lancelot immediately cursed himself for not paying more attention. He hadn't realized that the rest of them had been approaching. Thank goodness he hadn't said anything to implicate Merlin and that the warlock hadn't given anything away himself. Those haunted eyes immediately sought out Arthur, but Lancelot didn't move out of the way nor did he relinquish his hold. Merlin looked like he might collapse, and the knight wasn't about to take that chance.

"Arthur, we need to leave," Merlin said, trying to get the prince to listen to him. "Something's not right."

"And what makes you say that?"

It was obvious that Arthur didn't believe him. He was using that exasperated tone of voice he often took whenever his servant was trying to convince him of something that he had no intentions of listening to.

"Because it's…I can just sense it. This place feels wrong."

"_Mer_lin…"

"Please, Arthur, we should go back."

The prince heaved a sigh, and Lancelot was certain that he was fighting the urge to lash out in frustration.

"Look," Arthur began, his voice and manner calm but still laced with authority, "I know that the situation isn't ideal and that we don't know what lies ahead, but we've come this far already, and I'm not about to turn back now. I know that you're still tired and that you don't want to be here, but I'm not leaving simply because you think you can _sense_ something. That's paranoid even for you."

"But Arthur…"

"No, Merlin. We're going, and that's final."

With that said, Arthur turned around and continued trekking across the field. Lancelot watched him go, noticing that Elyan and Gwaine didn't look too pleased. While Gwaine was glaring at their prince, Elyan was still watching Merlin, clearly worried about their youngest companion. The warlock really did look ill, and Lancelot knew that it wasn't the exhaustion this time. Whatever was wrong with the vale had something to do with magic, and it was strong enough that Merlin could feel it, making him react in a way that the knight had never before witnessed. One would think that if the magic was that powerful that all of them would be able to at least feel something, but he couldn't sense a thing nor could the others.

There was no way Merlin would be able to convince them when he was the only one who could feel it.

"Merlin?" he asked, drawing his friend's attention back to him and away from the retreating prince. Merlin shook his head, trying to clear it, before he pulled himself up straighter and masked his earlier fear, although the latter was done rather poorly.

"It's fine," he said even though it obviously wasn't. "Let's go."

The warlock pulled away from him, starting to follow after Arthur, Elyan and Gwaine doing the same but still looking less than pleased. Lancelot took a moment to watch all of them, a frown tugging at his face. He wished that the mood amongst their group could go back to what it was before instead of this stifling, uncomfortable ambiance. With Merlin out of sorts and everyone still concerned about him to varying degrees, not to mention the lingering anger in the knights towards their prince and Arthur's own frustration and guilt, it didn't make for a nice traveling environment.

It didn't help any that he knew Merlin wasn't just being paranoid, which meant that they were walking into something well beyond their control. It was rather pointless to try and convince Arthur to turn back though. He had already made it clear that nothing they had to say would be able to stop him. Lancelot couldn't help but wonder just what it was that had Arthur so determined to see this through. He imagined it was a mix of concern for his patrol, concern for the people, and a slight curiosity about the vale. It was shrouded in mystery and posed a challenge to anyone arrogant enough to believe that they could best it.

He only hoped that whatever Arthur's motivation was, it wouldn't end up costing them their lives.

* * *

><p>It felt like they had been walking for hours. It didn't help that they had no way to judge the time of day due to the mist. It was impossible to tell how long they'd been traveling when the sun was hidden from sight and the vale was somewhat dim and muted to begin with. However, it certainly felt like half a day, and Merlin was almost ready to just stop and pass out for a few hours. Not only was he exhausted, but the nausea from earlier was still there, and he wished his stomach would just decide already if it was going to be sick or not. At least then he might get some relief even if it meant losing his lunch.<p>

Thankfully some of the illness he had been feeling earlier had diminished, although in its place was another feeling entirely. His senses when it came to magic were still screaming, being overwhelmed by something he couldn't pin down or understand, but there was something else too, like a presence at the back of his mind. It wasn't trying to force its way in or anything like that, and it didn't feel menacing at all, but it made him feel like he was being watched. More than once he had thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye, but every time he had turned around, there hadn't been anything there.

During the most recent of those times, he could have sworn he had caught a glimpse of a figure, but there hadn't been anyone, and all of his companions were ahead of him. It was unnerving and was making him even more paranoid than before. He kept trying to ignore all of it—the glimpses, that presence, the nausea that he was certain had something to do with the magic he was sensing—but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to push it away.

He was almost positive that whatever was causing all of it had something to do with the mist. Now that they were so deep into it, he could tell that it wasn't natural. There was magic there, magic and something else that he just couldn't put his finger on, and whenever he tried to focus on it, to reach out, his head would start to hurt and his magic would roll violently through his body. Needless to say he had stopped trying. He had no desire to draw any more attention to himself than he already had. It hadn't escaped his notice that the knights all seemed to be watching him.

That was actually something worth pondering and was distracting enough to keep his mind off the mist for a while. All of the knights, especially Arthur, were acting strangely. For one thing, they were all quiet, and he didn't think it had anything to do with their location. Usually Gwaine would be making inane comments to try and get a rise out of Arthur, something he had done through much of their journey thus far, but he was strangely silent and looked sort of irritated. He almost seemed to be glaring at the prince. Had something happened between them, something that he wasn't aware of?

Lancelot and Elyan were both acting a bit off as well. It wasn't so much anything that they had said or done, because they were more or less acting the way they usually did, but they kept glancing back at him as if they were expecting him to suddenly disappear. They were worried, more than he thought they should be, and he couldn't figure out why.

And then there was Arthur. Out of all of them, he was behaving the most suspiciously. The prince had been acting oddly all day. He had barely spoken since they had left the tavern, and even while they were there he hadn't said much. He also seemed to be choosing his words carefully, as if he were worried about saying the wrong thing…but that was just silly. Arthur wasn't the type of person who spent a great deal of time thinking before speaking.

Still though, he couldn't help but feel that something was off. More than once he had caught the prince glancing back with an odd look on his face, calculating and curious, like there was something he was trying to figure out. Clearly there was something on his mind, but he didn't seem inclined to share his ponderings. It was a little unsettling, because most of the time the prince seemed to be watching _him_. Arthur would always look away when he figured out that Merlin had noticed, but there was no denying the fact that his friend was observing him.

He'd have to be careful. The last thing he needed was to slip up and give away his secrets. He wasn't particularly fond of the idea of Arthur finding out about any of them right now.

But why was Arthur watching him so closely anyway? Why was everyone being so quiet? What was wrong with them?

What had _happened_?

"…There's something up ahead!" Arthur called out, immediately drawing his attention. The knights all took notice as well, becoming more alert as they quickened their pace to catch up with the prince. Arthur had stopped walking, peering through the fog, his eyes fixed on something ahead of them. It wasn't long before they were all standing together, trying to see what had drawn Arthur's attention, and sure enough there was something there. Through the mist they could see a shadow of some kind, tall and imposing. It was more than just a shadow though. Silhouette was a more appropriate term for what they were seeing.

Without a word they all began moving forward together, the knights all placing one hand on their hilts just in case. They had yet to encounter another living thing, but that could always change. Best to be prepared for the worst, especially since the worst is what usually wound up happening to them.

Merlin stayed towards the back of the group, wanting to be able to keep his friends within sight. He had to be ready to protect them if anything happened that the knights couldn't defend against. Also, he didn't want them to notice how every step he took made him feel worse and worse. His stomach was churning and his magic roiling. He felt sick and a bit light headed, wanting to just turn around and run but knowing he couldn't. There was no way he'd just run away and leave his friends, not when they needed him (even if Lancelot was the only one aware of that).

He would simply have to bear with it, no matter the cost.

As they continued forward and the shadow beyond the mist grew darker, the presence pressing at the corner of his mind seemed to grow more insistent. It was sort of like being repeatedly poked by someone who was afraid they might get bitten by doing so but was just too curious for their own good. He had no idea what it was, but it was certainly bothersome.

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, trying to shake the feeling off, but when he opened his eyes again, he caught sight of something off to the right. Coming to a dead stop, he spun around to see what it was, but there was nothing there. The area was completely empty…but for a moment there, he had been certain he'd seen something…or someone.

He quickly turned back around and caught up with his friends, not wanting to be left behind. They were getting closer to whatever it was that was creating that shadow. Whatever it was, it was certainly large, but it also didn't seem to be moving. That proved to be only a small comfort, but at least he could relax a little knowing that they weren't walking into the maw of some huge beast. Thank goodness for small mercies.

For so very long now the five of them had been walking through the vale, the scenery unchanging around them. No matter how far they went, the mist remained thick and confining, never thinning out or lifting even for a moment…

Until suddenly it did.

One moment they were trudging through the fog, chasing after a shadow hidden in the mist, and the next they all found themselves stepping into a clearing, the heavy mist fading into a light haze that hung above their heads and coated the sky. Everything was still muted, the colors all dim and faded around them with the lack of sunlight, but the world around them was visible, no longer concealed from sight.

What they found had all of them standing there in awe even though they shouldn't have been surprised. After all, they had all heard the story.

Before them was a small field, the grass long and unkempt with piles of ruble lying about and a few scraggly trees scattered across it. It was hard to tell what all the rubble had once been—perhaps statues or arches—but whatever the stones were from, they were clearly ancient, all broken down and worn away with moss and vines twining around them.

The ruins were not what drew their attention though. After all, it was hard to pay attention to the smaller things when there was something much grander standing before them. It seemed that all the rumors they had heard were indeed true, because at the center of the vast clearing they had stumbled into was a castle, tall and proud and ancient, the stones all gray and weathered. It was as large as Camelot's citadel, perhaps even larger, and just as imposing even though it had lost a good deal of its luster. There were places along the outer walls where sections had crumbled away, and one of the far towers was only half there, the rest lying in the grass below it.

Merlin was eerily reminded of the ruins he had seen on the isle of the blessed so long ago, powerful and ancient and weathered by time but still majestic and proud in its own right. The castle before them was no different, and despite its imposing, mysterious presence, he couldn't help but find it somewhat mesmerizing. If only the air surrounding it didn't make him feel sick to his stomach, he would have called it beautiful, but it was hard to focus on the sheer awe the palace inspired when he wanted nothing more than to lie down and not move for a very long time.

He did wonder though if the others felt at all the way he did upon seeing the castle. Judging by their expressions, he assumed that for once they were all on the same page.

"…Well," began Elyan, "it looks like at least part of the story was true."

"Indeed…" agreed Lancelot, still staring at the sight before them in awe.

"…Come on, let's go," Arthur eventually said, taking a few steps forward. "Keep your eyes open for any sign of the patrol, and stay on guard. We don't know what could be in there."

They all nodded in acknowledgement and followed after the prince, moving slowly forward and keeping an eye on their surroundings. The area was completely silent aside from their footfalls just like the vale had been. There was no wind, no rustling, no birdsong, nothing. Merlin almost wished there was a sound of some kind, even the growling of a beast, because at least that meant that something had managed to survive here. Anything was better than the sense of death that seemed to linger in the air.

As they were passing under an archway, half of it lying in pieces on the ground, Merlin once more caught sight of something from the corner of his eye. He turned to try and catch it, but all he saw was a flash of something white before it vanished. The same thing happened two more times as they were approaching the outer courtyard of the castle. He thought he saw something only to catch a mere glimpse before it vanished again—another flash of white, but for a moment there, he thought he had seen someone; not a thing…but a person.

Surely that couldn't be the case though. He had to be seeing things.

The fourth time it happened though, he ended up earning everyone's attention as he once again failed to find whatever it was he kept seeing.

"Merlin?" asked Gwaine, watching as the warlock kept looking around, searching for any trace at all of the person he was almost positive he had seen. People didn't just vanish. "Everything alright?"

"…No," he answered after a moment of searching, the word escaping as a sigh as he gave up and turned around. "I thought I saw…never mind. It's probably nothing."

"It's never nothing," said Elyan. "What did you see?"

"Well…this might sound a bit mad, but…I thought I saw someone."

"Some_one_?" asked Arthur, clearly skeptical. "As in a person?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"_Yes_, Arthur. I know what I saw." Sure, he didn't know anything besides the fact that it was a person, but that was surely a start.

"Sure you're not just seeing things? It's understandable in a place like this."

He didn't deign that with an answer, at least not a verbal one. He just gave the prince a look that was just shy of a glare. Why did Arthur always have to question him like that, all the while sounding like he didn't believe him? He kind of hated it, being treated like he couldn't possibly be right about something. He wasn't just some useless idiot, despite some of his more farfetched (though still very true) declarations, but he sometimes wondered if that was how the prince saw him—a fool who couldn't do anything right.

Someday though, he would learn the truth. Someday Merlin would finally be able to show him just how much he'd done for Arthur and for Camelot. He wasn't just some hopeless idiot, incapable of doing anything right. He just _wasn't_.

"Come on," said Lancelot, putting an end to the conversation. "Let's keep going."

With one last questioning look, Arthur turned away and began heading towards the castle again, all of them following suit. Merlin still couldn't shake the feeling though that someone was there, watching them, even though there was no longer anything in his peripheral vision, no more glimpses of someone or something moving about behind them. However, that presence at the corner of his mind became that much more persistent as they moved forward, and soon enough it wasn't just one. There was something else too, something that he recognized right at the edge of his awareness but just out of reach. It was familiar even though he couldn't place it, and he thought that if he tried just a little harder he might be able to grasp whatever it was he was feeling.

When they finally entered the courtyard, the castle standing before them in all its ancient glory, everything he had been reaching for suddenly came to him in a rush.

Merlin stopped dead in his tracks, sucking in a sharp breath as the magic in him twisted and his instincts screamed.

_How…how could I have missed this?_

The ground, the mist, the very air itself was completely saturated with magic, but it was so much more than that. It was as if the land itself was crying out, begging for something it couldn't receive.

As Merlin struggled to stay standing and push down the sickness that came just from being able to sense the magic in the air, he realized that his companions had all come to a stop as well but for a very different reason.

It turned out that he had been right before about seeing someone.

Sitting innocently atop one of the fallen pillars in the courtyard was the image of a young woman, garbed in a robe of purest white with skin as pale as ivory and hair like ash.

And her eyes…

He knew that gaze.

…They were the color of faded gold.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So, like I said, not exactly my favorite chapter thus far, but I hope it was still good and that it served its purpose. There's a lot I need to build before really launching into things, but next week things should start to get interesting.

As always, thanks for reading, and please feel free to drop a review. I love hearing from all of you and reviews always brighten my day :)

Until next week!


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Well, it's late and I'm tired, plus I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. I really need to get to bed.

But yay! Another week, another chapter, and one in which I reveal more of the plot...without actually revealing much at all, really :)

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language. Better safe than sorry, ne?  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin

Only got to read through this once, so there may be some errors. Please point them out if you see any.

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><p>CHAPTER 10<p>

For what felt like ages, not a one of them moved. All of their eyes were fixed on the woman before them as her own stared straight back. Amongst the dreary, gray-washed backdrop, she was like a point of light, the only living thing in a world that felt still and dead. She was young—younger than any of them, but there was an air of grace about her as well as something else that he couldn't quite name. "Power" wasn't the right word, but it was something that made him wary nonetheless, a feeling that warred with the woman's frail and delicate appearance.

She had all the beauty and elegance of a work of fine art, with hair so long and fine that it hung straight down her back and pooled around her shoulders, gleaming even in the dim light of the vale. It was the color of ash at its lightest, somewhere between blond and gray, standing out against her pale skin, all robed in white.

This was the type of woman that poetry was written about and that the bards would sing of, and Merlin would have believed that she really was as delicate and innocent as she appeared, but that gaze…

There was something very empty about it—piercing, but in a very different way. Those eyes were faded and hollow, and even though he knew she could see them, they appeared sightless. It felt like she was looking right through them, as if they weren't even there at all.

It was unsettling.

There was something very, _very_ wrong here.

The reverie they had all fallen into broke when the girl finally looked away, the expression on her face devoid of anything he could read although he sensed nothing hostile about her. In one graceful move, she slid from the stones she had been perched upon and landed without a sound. There was no rustling of the grass or swish of her robes as they settled around her, and even when she took a few steps forward, her footfalls made no sound even amidst the near deafening silence.

She regarded them all with only the barest hint of curiosity, though it seemed to get lost in the sheer depth of her gaze. He found he couldn't meet it for too long. It felt like he might fall in if he did.

It became rather clear after a while that if anything was to progress, one of them would have to take the next step forward, because after coming to a stop just a few yards away, the girl seemed perfectly content to just observe them. She stood completely still her eyes unblinking, and Merlin knew without a shadow of a doubt that he certainly wasn't going to be the one to draw that haunting stare. Someone else could have a go at it. He hadn't wanted to come here in the first place.

He figured that he shouldn't have been surprised when it was Gwaine who made the next move, recovering faster than the rest of them. This was _Gwaine_, after all, and despite the girl's ethereal presence, she was a beautiful woman. Everyone had their weaknesses.

"Hello there," the knight greeted with a smile, breaking the silence at last. Her eyes flickered towards him, but her expression didn't change. The movement was sudden enough though that it gave the impression of being startled, and that was exactly how Gwaine seemed to take it. "It's alright. I assure you, we don't mean any harm."

He raised his hands in a placating gesture, offering a smile, but still there was no reaction. She just kept watching them, and Merlin was becoming more unnerved with each passing moment. He could still feel the magic all around them, filling the air and the ground—nothing was untouched by it. There was just so much that he couldn't even begin to figure out what spell had been used or where it was all coming from. It felt like it was everywhere, and that wasn't all he could feel.

That presence at the back of his mind was still there, but it was different than before. It almost felt like something was trying to claw its way into his head, pushing and prodding, begging for attention that he couldn't give because no matter how desperate they were, he couldn't reach them. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to, because he got the feeling something terrible might happen if he did. He had never felt such a desire to simply run and never look back before, but everything around him made him want to turn away, to _leave_.

Just what was this place?

His attention was immediately drawn back to what was going on when the sound of collapsing stone echoed in the courtyard. All of them immediately looked towards it, the source being a small pillar that had toppled over, no longer able to sustain itself in the desolate surroundings. They all breathed a sigh of relief that it hadn't been anything dangerous before turning back to the girl…only to find that she was gone.

Whatever calm that had descended upon them lifted in an instant, all of the knights suddenly on high alert as they scanned the area, but she was nowhere in sight. The tree cover just beyond the crumbling walls would have been too far away for her to reach in such a short time, and there was nowhere to hide amidst the grass and stone of the courtyard. They hadn't even heard her flee; she had simply vanished.

"Where is she?" asked Elyan.

"She couldn't have gone far," said Gwaine.

"She couldn't have gone _anywhere_," corrected Lancelot. "We only looked away for a moment. She wouldn't have had time to run."

"Surely you're not suggesting she just disappeared," said Arthur, frowning at the knight. "A person can't suddenly vanish into thin air."

The prince had a point. Not even a sorcerer could just disappear like that without even a sound, like they had never even been there to begin…with…

Oh.

He swallowed rather harshly, suddenly feeling even more ill than before, because that…_that_ certainly was a possibility.

"…Unless she wasn't a person," he said quietly, drawing their attention.

"…Just what are you suggesting?" Arthur asked, but Merlin got the feeling he already knew the answer to his question.

"Maybe…that maybe she was never really there to begin with."

"You mean," began Elyan, his voice and manner suddenly growing cautious, "like a ghost?"

"A ghost," said Arthur, the incredulity ringing clear in his voice. It really wasn't at all surprising. He hadn't actually expected Arthur to believe him with something like this. Whereas he was certain that the prince did believe in such things (after everything they had been through, he'd be a fool not to), it was still rather farfetched. After all, they had all seen her, and although she hadn't spoken, she had been very much aware of all of them (she had also been able to sit on the fallen stones, implying she had some sort of physical body unless that had been an illusion as well).

"I don't know," he admitted, because there were flaws in his logic, but at the same time he couldn't think of anything else to explain how she had simply disappeared.

"It's a possibility, you know," said Gwaine. "Given the stories about this place and all the people who've gone missing here, I wouldn't be surprised if we ran into a lost soul or two."

_Lost?_ No, that wasn't it. She had been a lot of things, but not once had he ever gotten the impression that she was lost.

"…Come on," Arthur said, putting an end to the conversation as he turned towards the castle. "Let's see if we can find anything."

Once again the five of them were moving, walking across the courtyard that was nothing more than broken stone and grass, the cobbles long since destroyed by the passage of time. It made him wonder just how old the castle before them was, because he imagined it was quite a sight back when it was full of life and cared for. Now it was falling apart, with fallen pillars and cracked statues, holes in just about every wall. There was nothing covering any of it, the ceilings all having collapsed, their remains scattered into dust. The two towers that still stood were the only places still intact, still protected from the elements.

What could have happened to turn such a mighty fortress into nothing more than ruins?

With Arthur leading them, they made their way into the castle, walking down the open corridors and looking for any sign that someone had been there recently. All they found though were more ruined areas, rooms that were buried in rubble, places where the collapsed walls and ceiling had made it inaccessible. They had found a staircase that led down to what had probably once been the dungeons, but like a lot of other places, it was blocked by debris. There just weren't a lot of places that they could go, and no matter how hard they looked, they couldn't find anything at all that hinted at someone having been there.

There were no signs of life at all.

However, there was one place that drew their attention. In the inner chambers, towards the center of the castle, there was a huge pair of wooden doors. Normally that wouldn't have been intriguing. Given the structure of the castle, it most likely led to a small inner courtyard or a garden area, but it was of interest because of one simple observation.

In a castle where everything was weathered, even the very floor upon which they stood, those doors were untouched. There wasn't even a scratch on them—whole and flawless as the day they were built.

It was Lancelot who walked up to them, running his hand against the dark wood and the metal that lined it, the handles and lock untarnished and gleaming.

"How…?" he began to ask but simply let the word hang on its own. The question didn't need to be asked. They all knew what it was.

"Everything else in this castle was destroyed," Arthur mused as he ran his hand over one of the handles. "Yet this door doesn't seem to have aged at all."

"This place is getting stranger every moment," said Gwaine.

"What do you think is inside?" asked Elyan. "It's the only place that isn't in ruins. There might be something important in there."

"Then let's find out," and with that said, Arthur grabbed both of the handles and pulled. Nothing happened, so he tried to push them instead, but the doors wouldn't budge. All the while Merlin fought the urge to roll his eyes, because obviously it wouldn't be that easy. There was magic involved—he could _feel_ it, and whatever spell it was, it was powerful. There was a strong enchantment on that lock, a spell so powerful and desperate that he wasn't even sure if his magic would be enough to break it.

Whatever was behind that door, someone had gone through a lot of trouble to protect it.

Clearly frustrated, Arthur tried once more to open the doors, pushing against them since pulling hadn't worked at all, and even though they creaked under the strain, they remained unmoving. Even when Elyan and Lancelot pitched in, their strength still wasn't enough.

"It's no use," said Lancelot. "They aren't going to budge."

"Well, if they won't open, you could always try knocking them down," Gwaine suggested. "Maybe we could find something to use as a battering ram."

"…_That won't work_…"

All of them froze at those words before immediately whipping around, searching for the source of the voice. It had been soft but clear, light and surreal, but more importantly it had belonged to a woman, and sure enough when they turned to find the speaker, they found the same girl they had seen earlier. She was standing across the vast corridor between two of the only pillars that hadn't collapsed, her expression unchanged from the last time they had seen her.

"What…?" began Arthur, only to be cut off by that same crystal clear voice.

"You will not enter that room," she said, and those words would have been a demand if not for the tone of her voice. She spoke as if she were merely stating a fact, as if she didn't care whether they tried to force their way in or not…and yet there was something else there, a kind of authority that had nothing to do with either her voice or her words. There was just something…_strange_…about her presence.

He was pretty sure she wasn't actually a ghost, but he didn't really think she was entirely human either.

"No amount of force will make those doors open," she continued. "You don't possess the means to enter."

"What do you mean? Just who are you anyway?"

Silence was the prince's only answer. Quickly becoming irritated with the situation, he changed his question.

"Alright then, how do we open them?"

"It's simple. You don't. There is nothing in there that would be of any use to you."

And with that said, she turned her back to them and walked off.

"Wait!"

Arthur immediately went charging off after her, and naturally the rest of them followed. Strangely enough, the girl hadn't disappeared like before, or at least not entirely. Every corner they turned, she would be going around the next one. They followed her, and although it probably wasn't the wisest or most well thought out decisions, she was their only way of getting answers. There was no one else, alive or dead, that they had come across, no clues to follow. She was all they had.

It seemed after about the tenth corner that she was simply leading them in circles, but they continued to follow her anyway, and even when they slowed their pace, she was always still the same distance ahead of them. Merlin wasn't entirely keen on the decision to keep following her, but at the same time he couldn't overlook the simple fact that if she was actually running from them then she would have just vanished like before. Instead she always made sure they saw her before disappearing around the corner. She was leading them somewhere, and even though he wasn't about to trust her, he still didn't sense anything malicious about her.

It was just a feeling, like the kind he got whenever he sensed something magical, but he felt no ill intent.

Of course, that didn't mean he was going to drop his guard. He still didn't feel well, and that was reason enough to be wary.

They turned down one last corner and suddenly found themselves outside. They all came to a stop just at the edge of the short corridor where a door had probably once stood long ago. Before them was a small inner courtyard that looked a lot like the rest of the place did. Thick, unkempt grass covered the ground, littered with stones and fallen pillars.

Everything was lying in ruins…with one exception. Their eyes were immediately drawn to the center of the tiny courtyard where four pillars stood tall and proud, completely untouched. They were positioned at the four corners of some kind of stone platform, but it was hard to see much of anything else from where they were standing.

Very cautiously, the five of them moved out into the open air, slowly approaching the strange monument before them. They found that the four pillars each had a chain attached, pulled taught and tight towards the center of the stone platform. There, suspended above the ground by all four chains, was a large wooden staff. Its top was covered in crystals, each and every one perfect and unblemished, and its body had lines and symbols carved into it, all the way down to its tip.

On the stone platform, right under where the staff hung, was a symbol drawn in a dark substance that appeared black in the dimly lit surroundings. It was intricate and complicated, hundreds of different circles all overlapping into a pattern that would have taken someone days to create. It was beautiful, but at the same time it had an almost eerie feel to it. There was magic at work here, but what kind of magic was anyone's guess. Even after all the books he had looked through and all the different things he had encountered, Merlin had never once come across anything quite like this.

Situated just a few feet in front of the monument was a column of stone three feet tall. The top of it had been polished until it gleamed, and upon it were carvings that looked like words. That was where the five of them found themselves standing, all staring down at it and trying to read what was written.

"Well, what's it say?" asked Gwaine, unable to read it from where he was. Out of all of them, Lancelot had the best view point, having moved right up in front of the column, and with no further prompting, he began to read.

"…The staff of Rhoshad. Whosoever holds this staff will be granted the power to lift the curse."

"What curse?" Gwaine asked, earning him a few disbelieving looks.

"I would think that'd be obvious," said Elyan. "There's clearly something wrong with this place. The 'curse' must be referring to the mist."

"So then all we have to do is grab the staff?"

Even while asking his question, Gwaine was already making his way towards the pillars and the platform beyond them.

"Wait," Lancelot called, halting the man in his tracks. "There's more… Be warned. Anyone who seeks to lift the curse must pay a heavy price. Only those with an open heart can remove the staff. All who approach without understanding will…" The knight swallowed rather hard, his face paling as he read the last of the inscription. "Will burn to ash and be returned to the earth."

Needless to say Gwaine quickly made his way back to the column, watching the suspended staff with a wary expression. Merlin was bordering more on exasperation.

Of course there would have to be a catch. There was _always_ a catch, because nothing could ever be that easy. After all, if removing the staff was all it took to end whatever spell had been placed over the vale, then someone would have done it by now. Clearly all who had tried so far had failed…assuming any of them had gotten this far to begin with.

"What do you suppose it means by 'an open heart?'" asked Elyan.

"I don't know," said Lancelot as he silently reread the inscription. "It could mean any number of things."

"Pure would be my guess," said Gwaine. "That's usually how these things go, isn't it?"

For some reason, Merlin was pretty sure it was more complicated than that. At the same time he couldn't help but wonder what "things" Gwaine was referring to. It's true that there were quite a few superstitions and legends and even curses that had something to do with a pure heart, but he didn't know too many of them. He had thought that Gaius was the only person he knew who was familiar with those kinds of things, but apparently he had been wrong. Appearances really _were_ deceiving, even with someone like Gwaine. He clearly knew a great deal more than his personality led people to believe.

Still though…he couldn't help but feel that there was more to it this time. Open wasn't exactly the same as pure.

"Well…if that's the case," said Arthur as he began to slowly walk forward towards the pillars, stopping only when Elyan grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Arthur, what are you doing?" he asked, clearly concerned. Merlin certainly couldn't blame him. He'd been about to try and stop the prince himself, already knowing what Arthur planned to do.

It had been years ago now. There were times when it felt longer and others where it felt like no time had passed at all, but he could still remember every detail—a unicorn, a curse, the crashing of waves against the shore, and two goblets set between them. It was something he would never forget, the feeling of grief and desperation when he watched his friend fall, accepting death just so that he wouldn't have to. In that moment, Arthur had proven that his heart truly was pure.

But "open" and "pure" were two very different things.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" the prince asked, trying to shrug the hand off, but Elyan only held on tighter.

"Sire, it's too dangerous."

Arthur heaved a sigh, his expression settling into an exasperated scowl.

"Look, I've been through this whole 'pure heart' thing before, and—"

"Now _that's_ a story I'd like to hear…"

"Shut _up_, Gwaine. As I was saying, I've been through this before. Granted it was a long time ago, but I don't think that really matters."

"What _are_ you talking about?" Elyan asked, obviously confused, and Merlin couldn't blame him. After all, none of them knew that story, not even Lancelot.

"Look, it's a long story. Just trust me on this."

"Arthur," Merlin called, knowing that the prince was about ready to pull away from Elyan and just go for it. He needed to stop him before he did something foolish. "Elyan's right. It's too dangerous. The warning might not be referring to the same thing, and that's not a risk we can take."

Arthur looked about ready to start arguing with him (nothing new there, really) when a rather haunting but familiar voice cut him off.

"You're right to be wary. It would do you well to listen to your friends, Prince Arthur."

They all turned to face the monument, and sure enough, leaning against one of the pillars was the same girl from before…and Merlin was entirely certain that she hadn't been there earlier. It was as if she had suddenly appeared out of thin air.

Whatever she was—human, spirit, magical creature—she obviously wasn't normal.

"Just who are you?" Arthur asked, finally becoming fed up with the woman. "And how do you know who I am?"

"I've been listening."

She pushed away from the pillar and took a few steps towards them, stopping only a few feet away and seeming perfectly content to quietly observe them once more.

"Can I ask you something?" Lancelot began, moving away from the stone column and towards the rest of the knights, a pair of golden eyes tracking his every movement. When she said nothing in response, he took that as permission to continue. "What exactly is this place?"

Merlin wasn't entirely sure if he was just seeing things or not, but for a moment he thought he saw just the barest hint of a grin.

"The people on the outside call it 'The Vale,' but it was once a great kingdom…though I fear it's nothing more than an abandoned castle now, a victim to the passage of time."

She began walking again, each step silent even as her robe brushed through the grass. She moved around their small group, her eyes focused and her expression still the same as it had been—unreadable except for the barest hint of curiosity.

"Who exactly are you?" Elyan asked, the words coming out rather cautiously but with a great deal more patience than Arthur's had. It was the question on all their minds, one she had failed to answer more than once already, although Merlin couldn't blame her for not answering Arthur. The prince wasn't very good at asking nicely.

"…You may call me Eiwyn."

She didn't offer them anything else, only kept watching with that same haunting look. It was unnerving. It felt as if she were seeing not through but into them, as if everything were being laid bare. He could still feel it, that strange presence at the back of his mind that kept trying to force its way in. He wondered if it had anything to do with her. He couldn't feel any magic coming from her, but then again he couldn't feel anything from the staff either, and that was clearly magical.

Of course, it could always be that the magic he could feel all around them was interfering with being able to tell if Eiwyn had any sort of powerful magic. He was pretty sure she did though. After all, how else had she managed to survive here when everyone else had perished?

And if she wasn't human but wasn't a spirit…then what _was_ she?

He kept watching her as she stood before them, her eyes shifting over each one of them in turn until they finally settled on him. Merlin had been trying to stay unnoticed, mainly because he didn't want to have to answer any questions about why he looked like he was about to be sick. That really wasn't a conversation he wanted to have. He knew that the knights would probably take him seriously, but he didn't want to deal with Arthur and his incredulity. He wasn't in the mood for it, not when he was already feeling miserable.

When that gaze met his and those faded eyes bore into him, the presence he could feel got stronger, and when he looked—really looked—at the girl before them, everything suddenly fell into place.

Eyes of faded gold and filled with so much sorrow that a person could drown in it. He hadn't noticed before, hadn't looked properly, but hidden behind that blank gaze was pure and unabashed grief, too deep to comprehend.

The air suddenly seemed a hundreds times thicker than before, and although he wasn't struggling to breath like he had been in his nightmare, he could feel the weight of it all around him, pressing down on his shoulders and pushing against his chest, his heart.

It _hurt_.

There was something else in the air though, something other than the weight and the magic. He had known all along that the mist surrounding them wasn't normal, that magic had to be the cause, but it was something more than that, something he was close to understanding if he just tried a little harder, listened a little closer.

For the first time since it had appeared there, he stopped fighting against the presence at the back of his mind and allowed it to push a little further.

He would come to regret that decision.

It started as a whisper, just a mere voice which soon began to grow. There were no words being spoken, no tones or any real sounds at all, but he could _hear_ it. One quickly became two and two into many, and more were soon added until there were too many to count…and they were all _screaming._

The realization dawned before he could even really grasp what he was hearing, and he suddenly felt ill for an entirely different reason. Those voices…

The mist wasn't just made up of magic. It was made up of souls, and there were _thousands_ of them.

Thousands upon thousands of voices, crying out in despair and retribution—the sound of innocent lives cut tragically short and denied their right to pass on.

He had been right before.

They _never_ should have come here.

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><p><strong>AN:** Thank you to all who are reading this fic and to everyone who has reviewed. I wasn't expecting so many last week especially since I didn't think the chapter was that good, but I guess I was wrong :)

**Review Replies**

Reshma: Thanks for the review, and also thank you for the advice :) I think I'd rather do the supplements. I'll keep it in mind especially if I end up getting sick again. Twice was enough for me.  
>Oh, I definitely agree about Arthur. He really does need to listen more :) He's really good at ignoring other people's opinions especially when he shouldn't (and his do tend to land them into trouble more often than not). Fear not, for he has not been forgiven even if their anger with him is being let go for now due to the weird situation they're in. I have lots in store for that bit of the plot as well, and Merlin will indeed find out eventually. I haven't decided how yet, but he will definitely be finding out :)<p>

Thanks everyone for reading! Until next week!


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** It's really, really late, and I'm really, really tired, so I'm gonna make this quick.

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language.  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know. Feel free to let me know if you see something.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin

I'm sorry I didn't get around to responding to all the reviews this time. The last half of my week was really busy, but I'll definitely do it this week. Life should slow down for a bit :)

I didn't proof read the last half of this chapter, so please let me know if you find anything wrong. I'll probably go through it tomorrow after my appointment.

Onward!

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><p>CHAPTER 11<p>

Unaware of their friend's inner turmoil, the knights all continued to watch the girl in front of them with barely concealed suspicion (and in Arthur's case, not concealed at all). After introducing herself, she hadn't said another word, perfectly content to stand there and watch them. She had positioned herself in front of the monument, between the two closest pillars, and even though her expression and posture were unreadable, she almost looked to be guarding it. Under normal circumstances, such a thing would have been ridiculous, but the situation they were in was anything but normal. Her odd presence alone was enough of a deterrent.

None of them would be getting past her without a fight, or at least that's how Elyan viewed it.

The whole situation was just unnerving. The girl—Eiwyn, she had called herself—looked as delicate and defenseless as a pampered, sheltered lady of noble birth. She was young and relatively small, shorter than all of them, and despite the robes she covered herself with, he was certain they only hid a lithe physique. She didn't look like the type of woman who could wield any sort of weapon or had any strength to her whatsoever.

However…there was clearly something there to be wary of. She had an almost otherworldly presence to her, and even though he didn't actually believe her to be a spirit or anything like that, he was starting to think that she might not be entirely human either.

It became pretty clear after a while that if they were going to make any progress at all in this place, they were going to have to be the ones to initiate the conversations since Eiwyn didn't seem to have anything she needed to ask or say to them. She had been at least slightly cooperative thus far, and so asking her a few questions certainly couldn't hurt any. He began to try and figure out what he should ask when Arthur beat him to it.

Personally, he would have started with a different question, and he definitely would have been a lot more polite about it. Apparently the prince wasn't very good at playing the part of a guest. They were the ones trespassing here, not her.

"Well, since you seem to know so much about this place," Arthur began, "then I demand you tell us what happened here. That warning mentioned a curse. What was it talking about?"

Those expressionless eyes drifted over to the prince, and even though nothing in them seemed to change, he imagined that she was at least a little insulted if her answer was anything to go by.

"Even if I told you, knowing would serve no purpose," she told him. "It's not a story that's meant for you, and you've not the ability nor the right to demand it of me. Knowing the truth would not change the fact that you can not remove the staff."

"But that inscription states that—"

"I'm well aware of what it says, but you're wrong in assuming that being pure of heart is the same as having an open one."

She moved a bit closer, and the four of them grouped together a bit more closely, their hands twitched towards the pommels of their swords. However, she only came a few feet closer before stopping, her gaze locked on Arthur. Her eyes took on an inquisitive stare but one that was sure and knowing, boring into the prince and allowing him nowhere to hide.

Even though they weren't the ones under scrutiny, the knights could all tell that she wasn't just attempting to read him. What she was doing went far beyond that, far beyond analyzing or even using magic to read a person's mind. It was as if she were taking him apart piece by piece, one layer at a time until everything lay before her, stripped of every lie and every secret with no place left to hide.

He wondered if Arthur could feel it too as he met her gaze.

"…I thought as much," Eiwyn whispered, her eyes losing some of their intensity as she shook her head a bit in what appeared to be dismay. "Even if you managed to reach the staff, you wouldn't be able to touch it."

"What do you mean?" the prince asked, and Elyan had to respect the fact that his voice didn't waver at all even after being subject to such a disconcerting stare. He knew he wouldn't have been so bold.

"It's true that you have a pure heart, Arthur Pendragon," she began, and before the prince could open his mouth to ask how she knew his full name (because _none_ of them had said it), she continued, "but you're dishonest."

That left the man gaping for a moment. The only response he seemed to be able to come up with was a quiet but indignant "what?"

"You lie to others and to yourself in order to avoid humility and protect your pride. You're afraid of being seen as soft or weak, and so you hide away the truth with harsh words and barbed insults. You're quick to anger and you refuse to listen, and yet you allow the opinions of others to guide your judgment and decisions. You don't know how to see the truth, not for yourself."

Those faded eyes strayed from the prince and swept over the rest of the knights, all of them tensing under such a scrutinizing gaze. Would she do to them the same as she had done to Arthur?

Would she delve into their hearts and lay their faults bare?

"All of you are honorable men, noble—just as a knight should be…but you all lack something important. You hold on for the wrong reasons, and you're not even aware. You have good hearts, but you lack understanding."

For a moment, all was silent as they took in what had been said, trying to figure out what she was talking about while all the while being unsettled by her words. Elyan could see that all of them were struggling, trying to figure it out. Had she simply been spouting nonsense in an attempt to rattle them, or were her words the truth?

Judging by the looks on all their faces, he was certain it was the latter…but how? How could she know about them? Had he been right before in assuming that she could read them? However, this went far beyond simply reading a person. It was one thing to interpret facial expressions or body language to gauge how a person was feeling or whether they were lying, but what she had done was something else entirely. Being able to read someone usually involved knowing the person to begin with. While he was certain she had been watching them ever since they had entered the vale, he knew it had nothing to do with that. Those weren't the kinds of things you could learn through such a short observation.

No, she hadn't been reading their actions. It was as if she had been reading their very souls, everything that made them who they were.

_But how?_

Before any of them could gather their thoughts enough to speak, Eiwyn shifted. She had been standing so unnaturally still that even the slightest motion looked like a startled jerk. Her head turned, her attention drifting to a point behind them…and then just like that, she vanished.

In the blink of an eye, she was just gone.

Behind them came the sudden rustling of grass, and they all turned to see what had caused it only to freeze in place, unsure of how to react.

Eiwyn had always kept her distance from them, never coming too close, but there she stood before the youngest member of their group, only a foot away and peering up at him with that intense gaze of hers.

Elyan found himself wanting to pull his friend away from her, but his instincts were telling him to stay where he was. He got the feeling that it was the same for the rest of them.

As for Merlin, all he was feeling was sick and maybe a bit scared, although the nausea and the headache were doing a pretty good job of dominating all his other feelings. If nothing else, he was at least startled, because he hadn't been expecting to be watching Eiwyn from across the small courtyard one moment and then having her only a foot away the next. She hadn't even _moved_—it was like she disappeared from one place and then reappeared in another. The shock had been enough to make him take a step back, but he had found himself unable to move after that. Instead all he could do was stare into those faded eyes that had once been the very color of power and _magic_.

He wanted to look away. He knew that if he stayed there, locked in that gaze for too long that he would eventually fall in, but he couldn't pull away. He felt ill and tired and too sick to do anything other than maybe pass out, and all the while there were voices screaming around him, emotions pushing and shoving every which way, and he just didn't know what to do or how to make it all stop. They all begged for his attention, to let them in, but he couldn't do that, not without losing himself in the process, and he couldn't let that happen, no matter what the cost.

Despite the chaos raging inside of him, when Eiwyn spoke, her voice was crystal clear and able to cut through even the loudest screams. She was peering at him in a way that almost made her look curious even though he could tell that there was nothing he'd be able to hide from her.

Somehow, someway…she just seemed to _know_.

"…Except for you," she said, and he was confused for only a moment until he remembered what she'd told the knights. "You're…_different_ from most of the people who come here."

He wanted to tell her that he didn't know what she was talking about, but he couldn't get his mouth or voice to cooperate. It turned out that he needn't bother worrying about it. She had already found the answer to her unasked question, and for the first time her expression shifted. The change was miniscule at best, but he knew that look.

It was sympathy.

"So that's it. You can feel it, can't you," she said, all the while holding his eyes with her own. "You're _aware_. It's a very rare thing—I've not met many with 'awareness.'"

Merlin took a brief moment to heave a mental sigh of relief, because for a moment there he had been afraid that she would mention something about his magic. He knew that the reason he was so sensitive to things of a supernatural or even otherworldly nature was because most of them were routed in magic to some extent, and being as powerful as he was meant that he was affected by them in ways that most weren't, even other sorcerers. It was nothing new to him, although the severity of it certainly was. Nothing he had ever felt before had left him feeling like this.

Eiwyn had called it "awareness," and honestly, that was just fine with him. It was a much better interpretation and one that was far less likely to get him into trouble. He just hoped that she would continue to refer to it as such and wouldn't choose to out him in front of Arthur. If she really could look into a person and read them like an open book, then she would easily be able to see what he was. After all, his magic was a living, breathing part of his life. It would be impossible for her not to figure out what he was.

"It's a very unfortunate gift," Eiwyn continued, her expression giving no signs of whether she had seen any of his internal musings or not. He was desperately hoping for the latter. "I don't know what causes it—I haven't met enough people who have it to find out—but if you're aware, then why did you come here? Surely you must have felt something long before now. Most who have it are wise enough to stay away…although…"

She turned her head, glancing over her shoulder at the knights all standing warily behind her. They hadn't moved an inch, but it was clear that they were all listening.

"…I suppose you didn't come here purely by choice."

If they heard the reprimand in her words, they didn't show it, but her assumption was obvious. She clearly believed that they had dragged him along, but in this case that wasn't entirely true. He _had_ been told that he could stay behind, several times, actually, but as much as he may have wanted to, he couldn't. It went against everything he was to let his friends walk into certain danger without doing anything to help. He especially couldn't let Arthur walk into something magical without being there to protect him.

However, it was true that he had tried countless times to get them to turn back, to stay away, and not once had the prince listened to him. So yes, in a way he had been dragged along, because destiny dictated that he be there to look after Arthur, and that meant doing a lot of things that he really didn't want to. Entering the vale was no different. Had it been his choice, they never would have come here, but that wasn't how things worked. Arthur had been insistent on coming, and he was duty bound to follow.

Eiwyn eventually turned her attention back to him, her eyes seeking out his own, and when they met once more, _something_ changed. He wasn't sure what it was, but it worried him. The voices were getting louder and louder, and he couldn't seem to focus beyond the nausea sweeping through him. He honestly hadn't thought he could feel any worse, but apparently he'd been wrong. As undignified as it would be, he was wishing he could just be sick already and get it over with, because the churning in his stomach wasn't getting any better. He wanted to just fall to the ground and curl up into a little ball or perhaps even find a way to render himself unconscious.

Unconscious people didn't have to worry about nausea.

When a particularly violent wave of illness shot through him, making him close his eyes against the pain in his head, he felt something brush against the side of his face, startling him. The touch was cold but gentle, and it only took him a moment to recognize what it was.

Such a simple gesture, but it was one he was very familiar with even though he hadn't felt it in such a long time.

_So,_ his weary mind mused, _definitely not a ghost then._

With his eyes still closed and having no intentions of opening them any time soon, Merlin missed the way the knights had all tensed when Eiwyn had lifted one of her pale, thin hands and reached up towards the servant. All of them had immediately reached for their swords, ready to draw them at a moment's notice should the strange woman in front of them suddenly prove herself to be a threat. They'd all been on edge when she had first appeared in front of Merlin, not knowing what to expect or what her intentions were, but they had calmed a bit when all she had done was talk to him even if what she had said didn't always make a lot of sense.

Just what had she meant by "awareness," and what did it have to do with Merlin?

Even though she didn't look like much of a threat, there was clearly something not quite right about her, and it was unwise to underestimate a person when you knew nothing about them. This girl was the only living thing that they had encountered so far in the vale, and that made her an anomaly. She wasn't to be taken lightly.

And having her near Merlin, the only one in their group who wasn't armed, unnerved them all. He clearly wasn't well either, which meant he was even more vulnerable.

It was taking a lot of self restraint for Arthur not to run over and pull her away from his servant. He didn't like her being that close and in a position where she could easily hurt him before they could get to him.

For now though, she wasn't doing any harm. Her small hand was splayed against the side of his face, cupping it almost tenderly like a mother would. Even though Merlin didn't look well, it didn't appear to be because of her, so for now they would just wait and see what happened. Hopefully they weren't making a mistake.

From where they were, they couldn't see Eiwyn's expression—they were facing her back—but they could see Merlin's. His face was pinched in what almost looked like pain, and when he slowly opened his eyes, he appeared even worse off than before. He was pale and tired looking, worn out.

He looked ill.

So focused were they on their friend that when Eiwyn began to speak again, they almost didn't hear her. Her words, though soft spoken and sympathetic, filled them all with a cold sense of dread.

"…You can hear them, can't you…all those voices," she said, and although they were all standing just a few yards away, she was only speaking to Merlin. "You can feel it. You _know_ what the mist is."

_What…?_

Surprised was an understatement. Confused was too, for that matter, but Merlin's quiet and almost pained response was what tipped Arthur over the edge.

"…Yes."

"_What_?"

Had the knights not glanced at him, he wouldn't have even known that he'd spoken his question aloud this time. Eiwyn wasn't paying him any mind at the moment, and Merlin had closed his eyes again. He was leaning forward, hunched over just enough for it to be noticeable. It almost looked like he was having trouble staying upright, fighting the urge to just fall forward.

Something was wrong. Something was _very_ wrong, and he was starting to grow irritated with the whole situation. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, and to his surprise, Eiwyn deigned to answer him.

"You call it 'mist,' but that's not what it is. The mist you see here is the manifestation of an enchantment that was cast long ago by a powerful sorcerer…and of every soul that has ever tread upon these lands."

"Wha…"

For a moment, it felt like his heart had stopped before it began to beat almost frantically. That couldn't be right. Surely he had just misheard her, because that was impossible. It had to be.

"…What did you say?"

It _had_ to be.

Judging by the expressions on his knight's faces, they were probably thinking along the same lines he was. Elyan looked horrified, and Gwaine was somewhere between shocked and disgusted. He wasn't entirely sure about Lancelot though. Unsettled seemed to be the best way to describe his expression, but unlike Elyan and Gwaine who were looking up at the mist that hung in the air above them as if they expected to see something, Lancelot's undivided attention was on the girl and Merlin.

It was strange, but for some reason Eiwyn seemed entirely focused on Merlin. She didn't seem concerned with the rest of them in the slightest. She just kept staring up at him, her hand gently stroking the side of his face. It would have been a comforting gesture from most, but for some reason it just wasn't. It made him want to pull her away from his servant even more, and if Lancelot's expression was anything to go by, he was feeling much the same way.

It was true that Eiwyn had done nothing to warrant hostility. She hadn't attacked them or tried to harm them in any way. All she had done so far was talk, and she hadn't even said anything that harbored ill intent. There was no reason for them to feel threatened by her, but his instincts said otherwise. Her presence was starting to become unsettling.

Even if she wasn't technically a threat, that didn't exactly make her safe either. He figured that was probably why Lancelot was acting the way he was, clearly bothered by the situation but choosing not to do anything about it. Instead he just kept his hand wrapped around the hilt of his blade, ready to act if need be. Though he did a good job of masking it, he was obviously worried.

As it turned out, he had every right to be.

The sound of Eiwyn's soft voice drew him back in once more as she shattered the silence with nothing more than her words.

"…You poor boy," she said, once again talking only to Merlin. Her tone should have been laced in sympathy and compassion, and although there was some of the first, the latter was entirely absent. If Arthur didn't know better, he would have said that it was amusement that tainted her voice. "It's hard for someone like you to be here for too long. I imagine you must be feeling quite ill by now. That's what happens to everyone who can feel the air here. It's unsettling, isn't it. The very land itself is steeped in the deepest despair, and if you aren't careful, it could very well become your own."

Her hand suddenly stilled its gentle stroking, and had they been facing her, they would have seen her eyes narrow in curiosity and the corners of her lips twitch upwards into what could almost be called a grin.

"…Of course, you're no stranger to grief, are you?"

At those words, Merlin's eyes snapped open, widening in shock as he stared at the girl standing before him. The face looking back at him wasn't the same one he'd seen before. Her eyes were brighter, no longer kind or sympathetic, and the soft expression she'd been wearing earlier was gone. In its place was something he couldn't read, something a lot like curiosity but _different_—colder, distant. Her gaze was piercing and focused, and as he stood before her, he found himself unable to look away. She was doing to him exactly what she had done to the knights. She was looking not through but into him. Despite all his secrets and everything he kept hidden, he had never been good at guarding his heart.

The hand cupping his face almost began to burn, but he couldn't do anything to remove it. He was completely caught in that gaze…and he was terrified.

"You carry a great burden. There's so much weight on your heart, so much loss… How can you still stand with a heart that heavy? Sorrow, pain, betrayal… you bare such deep scars."

Merlin wanted to say something, wanted to pull away, but he couldn't. It was almost as if she were holding him in place somehow. He could practically feel her digging through his mind, his memories, breaking through every wall and barrier that he had placed around them. She was seeing everything that he had never shared before, things he had buried away, grief that he hadn't been able to face yet and pain he hadn't dealt with. It was like having a wound repeatedly torn open, and it was all he could do to keep from falling to his knees in despair.

"Please stop," he pleaded, his voice coming out as nothing more than a whisper.

Whether she had heard him or not, his plea fell on deaf ears.

"You give so much of yourself away. Why do you continue to trust when it only brings you pain? Your heart has been trampled upon, crushed so many times, over and over, and no one has ever noticed. So selfless, hiding your pain and your fear, bearing so much weight on such weary shoulders. Stronger people have fallen in the face of such despair."

"Please…please, just _stop_."

Will, Freya, his father, every life he couldn't save and all the one's he had taken, all his failures and mistakes, Morgana, her betrayal, all the innocent lives she had destroyed, so many lives…

He had caused so much pain, suffered so much loss.

_Make it stop._

"Why…?"

It was all too much too fast, and he could feel the tears threatening to fall in both pain and despair. He choked back a sob as the hand cradling his face pressed down harder. It was burning him, scorching not his flesh but his very soul.

"_Please_…"

_Just stop!_

"...Why are you even still alive?"

"That's _enough_!"

All of it—the fire, the connection, _everything_ vanished when a sword suddenly swiped through the empty air right where Eiwyn had been standing. Somewhere in his scattered mind, he recognized that it was Arthur who stood before him, angrier than he could remember seeing him in a long time. He was shouting something, but the warlock couldn't tell what it was, couldn't hear beyond the rushing of blood in his ears and the frantic thrumming of his heart.

Eiwyn was nowhere to be seen. She had vanished once again, and whatever had been holding Merlin up had apparently vanished along with her. He fell to his knees, breathing harsh and deep, trying to push everything back down after she had so cruelly dragged it to the surface. She had tread upon the parts of his life that he had buried away, all his regrets and fears. He couldn't think straight, couldn't sort out his thoughts or figure out which of the voices screaming in his head was his own.

Everything just felt so raw, torn open, _painful_. She hadn't just read his heart like she had with the knights. She had cut it open and bared his deepest sorrows for all to see.

"…Merlin?"

Very slowly he opened his eyes—he didn't even remember closing them—and tried to raise his head. There was a hand resting on his shoulder, something he hadn't noticed before, and when he traced it up to its owner, her found himself face to face with Lancelot. Upon further inspection, he could see that Arthur was still there, standing in front of him, and Gwaine and Elyan were there too, guarding him on all sides.

"Merlin, are you alright?" Lancelot asked, his voice soft and careful, and Merlin greatly appreciated it because his head sort of felt like it might explode. He tried to ignore reign everything in, and slowly but surely he was succeeding. His breathing evened out and his pulse slowed, but he found that all the emotions roiling through him were harder to tame. He was still shaken, and he could even feel himself trembling under the force of it.

Despite all the despair she had dredged up, he found himself feeling more angry than anything else.

"…She had no right," he whispered, clenching his fists around the grass beneath him. "She had _no right_."

"Merlin…"

"…_I must say, I wasn't expecting that."_

Whatever Lancelot had intended to say was cut off as Eiwyn's voice filled the courtyard.

"_You certainly are an interesting group of people."_

"Where are you?" Arthur yelled, all of them looking around for any sign of her, but there wasn't a single trace. Wherever she was, she wasn't there. "Show yourself!"

"_You have no right to demand anything of me. You are nothing more than trespassers."_

"Damn it, just who the hell are you?"

"…_Even if I told you, I doubt you would understand."_

There was a beat of silence, a moment where the air itself sighed before stilling once more, and when her voice returned, it was tainted with sympathy once more.

"…_You never should have come here. Once you enter this place, there is no going back. You'll all share the same fate as the others who came before you. There is not a one of you here that can lift the curse._

"_I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we won't see each other again."_

As the last word faded away, something in the air lifted, leaving what could only be described as emptiness in its wake.

Eiwyn was gone.

They were on their own once more.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Well, there you have it. What do you think? I may flesh it out a little more tomorrow when I go back through it, but nothing big should change. Lots of dialogue this time, which is why it took me so long to finish, but I think I included everything I wanted to go over. I found a way to work around the one problem I was having, although I may have created a new one now. Anyway, things are far from over. Lots more to come :)

Thank you for all the reviews! You guys really make my week :) Hope to hear from everyone about this chapter, cause lots of dialogue isn't my thing, and I was a bit worried how it turned out.

Anyway, that's all for now. See you all next week!


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Hurray! It's not unreasonably early in the morning this time (or super late at night...same thing). It's also a tad bit longer than the last few chapters :)

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language.  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know. Feel free to let me know if you see something.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin, though I do rather enjoy playing with the characters :)

So...this fic is probably going to end up being a lot longer than I originally thought simply because of the way I write. However, I don't feel quite so worried for once, because it seems that people tend to like the introspection and thoughts just as much as all the other bits. That's good, because the next chapter will probably have a lot of that too. After all, I couldn't fit everyone's reactions into just one chapter.

Anyway, thanks for all the wonderful support and kind words. It means a lot to me :)

Onward!

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><p>CHAPTER 12<p>

For a long while, no one moved. The silence washed over their group as they stood there, unsure what to do or how to proceed, none of them wanting to break the tension in the air. Arthur, Gwaine, and Elyan all still had their swords out, glancing around as if expecting some sort of attack even though they all knew that there was nothing around to cause them harm. Eiwyn was gone, and if what she had said was to be believed, she wouldn't be coming back for them.

Lancelot wasn't entirely sure whether to feel relieved or not about that fact. She had been their only link to figuring out what was going on. She clearly knew about the vale and held the answers that they were seeking, but she hadn't bothered to tell them anything useful, and now it seemed they would never get another chance to ask. They would simply have to continue forward on their own and hope that they figured something out before they all starved to death (their water and rations would only last a few days at the most, and there was nothing in the area to provide them with more).

However, the knight was also grateful that the odd and clearly somewhat magical entity was gone. Her very presence was unsettling, and what's more, she had been able to read them. She had gone as far as to look into them and bare their souls, taking in everything that made them who they are and judging it all against some higher standard known only to her.

For those few moments, it had felt like she was stripping everything away until all that was left was the very core of their hearts…and yet what they had experienced was nothing compared to what she had done to Merlin. Still kneeling next to the warlock, Lancelot could see just how much his friend had suffered in such a short amount of time. Eiwyn had dug into him so deeply and without remorse, leaving nothing untouched, and in addition to all the emotional turmoil he was facing, he also seemed to be in physical pain as well. His brow was creased and his expression pinched as if he had a headache of some kind, and he just looked slightly ill overall.

What was it Eiwyn had said, something about awareness and feeling sick? Was there something about the vale, beyond the obvious problems, that was making him ill? Did it have something to do with his magic?

Whatever was going on, he knew that nothing would be solved if they just stood around waiting for something to happen. They needed to get moving, and for that to happen, he was going to have to find a way to get Merlin to stand up. The warlock seemed perfectly content to just kneel there, staring off at nothing while he tried to control his breathing. Lancelot could almost see his thoughts and fears flashing across his face, warring with the distress that was still there, dredged up from Eiwyn's cruel analysis. He found himself feeling angry on his friend's behalf, because if there was one person who hadn't deserved that, it was Merlin. He had suffered so much already. She had had no right to take all his loss, all of his mistakes, and throw them into the world for all to see.

Later, when everyone had calmed down, he knew that Merlin would have a lot of questions to answer, because all of them had bore witness to what had happened, and if no one else, Arthur would have something to say about it. In some ways, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Merlin's heart was burdened by so many secrets, so many things he felt the need to hide, that it would do him good to talk for a change.

Not everything had to be hidden, and there were honestly some things that he believed Arthur should know.

Slowly and cautiously he began to get to his feet, not wanting to move too suddenly and startle his companions. His actions however seemed to snap the rest of them out of their trance. They all began to sheath their swords, still looking around anxiously, but at least they were moving again. The only one who hadn't moved yet was Merlin. He was still kneeling there, his hands clenching around the long grass beneath him. Lancelot reached out a hand, doing his best not to be too sudden. He wasn't sure what kind of state the boy was in, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare him.

"Merlin," he called quietly, offering his hand a bit more openly. To his relief, the warlock very slowly raised his head and turned his attention towards the knight. He just looked so worn out and _tired_. They really needed to find somewhere safe to rest for a while. "Can you stand?"

At first Merlin didn't move at all, as if he were trying to gather his thoughts. In the end he just nodded and reached up to let Lancelot help him to his feet. The knight clasped his friend's wrist and felt Merlin do the same with a much weaker grip, but in the end it was enough to pull the boy to his feet. He was a bit shaky, but he didn't fall back down, and that had to count for something. He still wasn't talking though, and that was never a good sign.

Their group once more fell into silence, no one knowing what to say to break it without causing everything to shatter completely. Lancelot was rather thankful that Merlin still had his head bowed so that he couldn't see the looks that were being directed at him. All that sympathy and concern (and thinly veiled curiosity) would have unnerved him to no end, and the last thing he needed was to be made more nervous than he already was. The knight knew there would be no way to keep them from asking questions later—that situation was rather inevitable—but at the very least it could be prolonged until Merlin was capable of answering with some dignity and emotional stability.

Despite all his raw power, perseverance, and the strength of his heart, there were times where it looked like he might just shatter under the weight of it all. Everyone had a breaking point. He just hoped that this quest wouldn't turn out to be Merlin's.

As they all just stood there, wondering how to proceed, it was Elyan who finally broke the silence as he looked up towards the mist-covered sky.

"We should find shelter," he suggested. "It'll be night soon."

Sure enough, as they all glanced at the sky above them, it had grown darker than it was before. They couldn't see the sun to tell if it was setting or not, but the fading light was a good enough indication that it was approaching nightfall. They hadn't set out until after midday, and they had been walking for hours before they had finally broken through the heaviest part of the mist. It was hard to tell just how long they'd been wandering around the vale. It was no surprise, really, given all that had happened.

"Alright," said Arthur, his attention once more drifting back to Merlin, and even though he seemed intent to hide it, he couldn't completely mask the concern in his gaze. It was always a welcome sight, the proof that Arthur really did care despite his terrible inadequacy at expressing it. After everything that Merlin had done for the prince and for Camelot, all the sacrifices he had made without ever asking for anything in return, the least he deserved was for Arthur to admit (even if only to himself) that Merlin was more than just a servant to him.

Maybe someday they'd be able to get him to admit out loud what all of them already knew—that Merlin was the greatest friend Arthur could ever have.

"Let's go," said the prince as he turned and began to make his way back towards the castle. There was a tower not too far off that hadn't fallen and that still seemed to have all of its parts. It would provide a decent enough shelter for the night.

"Come on, Merlin," Lancelot said, coaxing the warlock into following. It seemed Merlin had no trouble walking once he got started, and he wasn't so distracted that he couldn't navigate his way around obstacles, but the knight stayed nearby just in case. He noticed that Gwaine was also keeping rather close, only walking a few steps ahead and glancing back every now and then. In fact, they were all walking quite a bit closer than they usually did, slowing or quickening the pace whenever necessary in order to keep together. No one wanted to be too far away just in case something were to happen. There was strength in numbers, and as a group they stood a better chance if something were to go wrong.

They weren't usually so cautious, especially Gwaine. It was proof enough that what had occurred earlier had been more than enough to disturb them all.

When they finally reached the tower, they were quick to realize that it was a lot bigger than they had originally thought. It was taller than even the tallest point in Camelot and wider than the great hall—a _lot_ wider. The rooms within it were likely massive. Maybe they'd actually be able to find something of use, although the odds weren't good. Just about everything in the area had deteriorated long ago.

The five of them entered a stairwell and made their way upwards, searching for a suitable room that they could take shelter in. Most of the ones they came across were blocked by ruble, and some of the stairs were a bit hard to climb since there were all sorts of stones in the way. Eventually though they reached a section of the tower that seemed rather stable. The walls were barely damaged and the stairs weren't chipped and weathered. They even managed to find a very large but empty room, filled with stone columns that actually looked sturdy. There were quite a few doorways into other rooms as well, although the doors themselves were all long gone, but it was always possible that there was something in one of them that could be useful.

It was as good a place as any to rest for the night.

"This should do," said Arthur as he walked into the spacious area, taking a quick look around. There were a few windows along the far wall, although they barely let in any light, and soon there wouldn't be much left at all. After all, if the sun couldn't pierce through the mist, there was no way the moon could. If they didn't find a source of light, they'd be left in total darkness when night fully fell. They needed to start a fire, and hopefully there would be something they could use to do so.

"Alright, spread out," Arthur ordered, already making his way towards one of the small doorways. "See if you can find something—candles, oil, anything we can use to make a fire of some kind."

The knights all spread out to check the connecting rooms, even Arthur, but as they went in search of useful materials, Merlin instead made his way listlessly over to the far wall and slumped against it, sliding down until he was seated on the cold stone floor. He wanted to help, to look for something they could use or to even discreetly use his magic to aid their situation, but he found he couldn't focus enough to try. He was tired and distracted, and he still felt like his stomach was rebelling against him, although he was pretty sure he wasn't likely to get sick from it.

No, the problem went a lot further than mere illness. The nausea and the headache and even some of the exhaustion were all his body's reaction to the magic that coated the vale. It just felt _wrong_. Something terrible had happened here, and it was still happening. The magic he could feel was old, ancient, and undeniably powerful, but it was tainted with so much sorrow and agony that he could practically feel it himself, as if the feelings were his own.

If he wasn't careful, perhaps they would be.

Bringing his knees up to his chest, the warlock wrapped his arms around them and bowed his head. He curled up like that, making himself as small as he could, closing his eyes to try and block out everything around him. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could push all of it away, but his mind was still filled with those voices, and he couldn't seem to block them out. They weren't as loud as before, but he could still feel them there. They weren't speaking or really making any sound at all, really, but he could sense each and every presence, as if they were all begging for his attention, to just be acknowledged…to be saved.

Thousands of voices, crying out in grief and retribution…and there was nothing he could do but listen. He didn't know how to help them.

He couldn't even help himself.

Merlin pulled his legs even tighter against his chest, trying to choke down the well of grief that Eiwyn had dragged to the surface. He had buried all those feelings long ago, had moved on even if he hadn't always had enough time to grieve, but now he could feel each and every loss as if it had happened only yesterday. She had made him relive each moment, making the pain raw and fresh in his heart and mind. She had done it so easily, and yet it was taking him forever to push everything back down—every loss, every mistake, all his regrets and failures.

He just wanted it all to _end_.

* * *

><p>Lancelot gave a short sigh of disappointment as the room he had picked to sift through turned up nothing of real use. There was no wood (he hadn't really expected there to be given the lack of doors in the castle), no cloth, and no containers of any kind of liquid that could be used to light a fire. There had been only stone, rusted metal, and shattered glass. Anything useful had already been used up or had deteriorated long ago. It made him wonder just how old the castle was and how long it had been abandoned. It also made him wonder what had happened. Eiwyn had said that this land had once been a kingdom, but how long ago was that?<p>

How many years had these lands suffered in unending isolation?

As he made his way back into the main chamber where they would be spending the night, his attention immediately drifted over towards Merlin. The warlock was sitting against the wall, hugging his legs to his chest with his forehead resting against his knees. He looked so small like that, the very opposite of the powerful warlock he was.

Though of course, that wasn't _all_ he was. There were so many different layers to him, so many aspects of his personality, and not a single one was any less a part of him than any other. He was a strong, confident practitioner of magic, able to fight off enemies without lifting a finger, but at the same time he was the clumsy, cheerful, and somewhat insolent servant to the prince of Camelot.

Merlin was a great multitude of things, some of them almost contradicting at times, but what it really came down to was the fact that despite his strength, both of magic and of the heart, he was only human. He _wasn't_ invulnerable—quite the opposite, in fact. Despite the cruelty of her words and actions, Eiwyn had been right. Merlin's was a heart that trusted too easily sometimes, and that kindness was both a blessing and a curse. It made him who he was, but it meant that every loss, every regret and failure struck him that much harder. He hid it well and dealt with things in his own way, but that didn't mean it didn't still hurt.

For a long time, the only person Merlin could talk to and trust implicitly with all his secrets and all his pain was Gaius. Now that he was back in Camelot, Lancelot was going to do whatever he could to help carry that burden. It was the least he could do for such a selfless, honest friend.

The knight made his way across the room until he was next to Merlin. He had made sure to make enough noise to let his friend know he was there so that he wouldn't accidently startle him. The young warlock was dealing with enough as it was. The last thing he wanted to do was scare him.

Merlin didn't say anything nor did he raise his head, so Lancelot just let himself slide down the wall until he was sitting within arm's reach. Still Merlin didn't acknowledge him, and if it weren't for the fact that he was undeniably tense, Lancelot would have thought that he had somehow managed to fall asleep like that. As it was though, that was hardly the case.

"Merlin," he called gently to get his attention, and although there was no outward sign that he had it, he continued anyway. "Are you alright?"

It was a stupid question, a fact he was well aware of, but it was the only one he could think to ask.

For a moment the warlock seemed to hesitate, his arms tightening around his legs, before he simply shook his head in response. He still didn't lift it, hiding away as best he could, but he had given a genuinely honest answer to that question for once. That alone was proof enough of just how wrong this whole situation was.

"Is there anything I can do?" He wanted the answer to be "yes." He wanted to be able to help, because watching Merlin like this made his heart ache and left him feeling helpless. However, he was pretty sure he had known the answer even before he had asked the question.

"…No," came the whispered reply. The warlock hugged himself tighter, releasing a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, Merlin. You have no reason to."

Merlin gave a very short, barely noticeable nod even though it was obvious he didn't fully agree before drawing in a shaky breath and releasing it much the same way. If he could have, he probably would have curled up even tighter.

Not knowing what to do to help his friend, Lancelot did the only thing he could think of. Very carefully he placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder. As far as comfort went, it wasn't much, but it made him feel just a little less helpless. It was a small, simple gesture, but it would get his message across.

Even if there was nothing he could do at the moment, he would be there when he was needed. For now, that was enough.

Unbeknownst to either of them, the other three members of their group were watching the interaction from across the room, and though they hadn't heard the words that were said, they could tell easily enough from the gestures. They had all returned from their foraging in time to see their fellow knight sit next to Merlin and offer him what little comfort he could.

In some ways, it made Gwaine wonder if Lancelot somehow knew what was wrong besides the obvious. They had all heard what Eiwyn had said to their friend, but it seemed like Lancelot was the one who understood. It was true that Merlin could often be found in the knight's company when not in the middle of doing chores or running errands. The two of them would talk in hushed voices, as if they didn't want anyone else to know what was being said, and sometimes they would even clam up entirely if someone walked over. Also, it wasn't uncommon for Lancelot to share a meal with Merlin and Gaius in the physician's chambers. Gwaine had gone a few times as well, but not as many as the other man had.

The two of them were obviously good friends, but there just seemed to be something more to it than that. Merlin seemed more at ease around Lancelot than anyone else, Gaius being the only exception.

There was just something _there_, and he desperately wished he could figure out what it was.

Maybe if he could, he'd be able to help Merlin.

"…The rooms in this tower are a bit strange, don't you think?" said Elyan, effectively drawing him away from his musings.

"Hmm? How so?" he asked.

"Well, the first room I checked looked like the rest of the castle. There wasn't anything there, and everything was falling apart, but the second room was a lot like this one. The walls weren't cracked, nothing was broken, and I even managed to find this."

Elyan lifted a stone pot, and in it was some kind of liquid. All it took was one sniff to know what he had found, and Gwaine had to admit he was rather surprised.

"Oil?"

"More than enough to last the night, so long as we don't waste it."

He set the pot down carefully and covered it before turning to look at their uncharacteristically quiet leader. Arthur hadn't said a word for a long time, but it seemed his own search had been as fruitless as Gwaine's. Instead he was just standing there, staring at the far wall with an expression that wasn't often seen on his face. It was a mixture of deep concern and confusion with just a bit of curiosity. It certainly didn't take a genius to figure out why it was there.

Elayn glanced over to where Merlin and Lancelot were sitting. Even though he hadn't known Merlin for quite as long as the rest of them, it still hurt a great deal to see him like that. He was usually so cheerful and full of energy, never blending into the background despite his station. He was expressive and opinionated, and he often knew what to say to cheer up or console the people around him.

Perhaps that was why none of them seemed to know what to do now that the roles had been reversed. They weren't used to Merlin being the one who needed consoling. They didn't even really know what was wrong.

"…Do you think it was true, what she said about Merlin?" he asked, earning him both his companions' attention. He could still hear those callous words, spoken with no regard for how much damage they could wrought.

"I don't know," said Gwaine, "but judging by his reaction, I'd say it's pretty likely."

He was aware of that. He was certain they were _all_ aware of that, but if that really was the case, then how had they all missed it? It was true that he didn't spend a great deal of time around Merlin, and until recently, Gwaine and Lancelot hadn't gotten to spend a lot of time with him either, so it would have been easy for them to miss something…but Arthur was another matter.

How can a person spend every day with someone and _not_ _notice_?

"Well, princess," began Gwaine as he turned to the prince, effectively drawing Elyan's attention as well, "is it true?"

Clearly Arthur hadn't expected to be addressed (he probably hadn't been paying attention), because he only stared at Gwaine in slight confusion and more than a little agitation. He didn't like being startled, that much was obvious, but he got the feeling that the irritation had a lot more to do with the slandering of his title than anything else.

"Is what true?" he asked, just shy of glaring at the knight.

"What Eiwyn said about Merlin. You've known him the longest. If what she said is true, then you should know something about it."

"I…"

As unbelievable as it was, Elyan was pretty sure he knew Arthur's answer just from seeing his face fall. He bore the look of a man who had just been asked an important question, one he should've known the answer to but couldn't for the life of him find it. If he didn't know any better, he would have called that look "ashamed" or even "guilty," but he couldn't seem to think of it as being anything other than sad.

"I don't know," Arthur said at last, staring off to the side and away from Gwaine. "He never said anything."

"…He shouldn't have had to."

Those five words, spoken softly in pent up frustration and barely controlled anger, were enough to earn the prince's attention again. Gwaine was _angry_. Even though he was a bit of a hot head, his attitude tended to be a bit more laid back than most, but there was none of that in his expression now. He was actually angry, much like he had been back in the tavern, and Elyan was sure that that had a lot to do with this reaction as well. Gwaine had still been fairly mad at Arthur although their situation within the vale had managed to subdue a lot of his ire. Now though, all that irritation had found its way back to the forefront, and that only made his words all the more harsh.

"I'd bet my life that Merlin can always tell when something's troubling you," he said, still glaring fiercely at their leader. "After all this time, you should be able to do the same, but I guess that's too much to expect from someone like you."

Arthur's eyes narrowed as he glared right back.

"And just what are you accusing me of, Gwaine?"

Elyan took a small step back, not wanting to get in the middle but at the same time not wanting to leave either. He might be needed if things took a turn for the worst.

"I thought you were different," said Gwaine, his tone dropping a bit in volume but not losing an ounce of its intensity, "but I guess I was wrong. You're just as self-centered as any other noble."

Arthur looked like he was about to object to that when Gwaine delivered his last verbal blow, one that silenced any and all of the prince's retorts. It was said in a tone that was both dangerous and scolding, his words serving as both an attack and a reprimand.

"Merlin shouldn't have had to tell you—_you_ should have _noticed_."

Without another word, Gwaine turned and strode off towards the other end of the room. They both watched in silence as the knight took up a position much like Lancelot had, sitting on Merlin's other side and speaking quietly, trying to offer solace in the only way he could.

Elyan heaved a sigh, grateful for the release in tension and the fact that Gwaine hadn't resorted to a physical reproof, before turning to regard his prince. Arthur was once more watching the scene before him with that look on his face, although there was a good amount of shock mixed in as well this time. It was almost strange to see him looking like that, because more often than not, Arthur would mask any insecurity or weakness with either arrogance or irritation in order to protect his pride. He didn't like being told that he was wrong or being called out on something that could potentially make him appear weak.

Gwaine had kind of done both of those things, and this time around Arthur hadn't really defended himself. His defense had been halfhearted at best. He hadn't even tried to get in the last word, and Elyan was pretty sure he knew the reason.

Despite the anger that had fuelled his words, to some extent Gwaine had been right. If Merlin truly had suffered the way Eiwyn had described, then Arthur should have noticed. Merlin had been his servant for years now—he spent _every day_ in his presence. No matter how good Merlin was at fooling people (that smile of his _was_ rather disarming, after all), there surely would have been signs. Heartache couldn't be masked completely, not if you knew a person well enough to know what to look for.

After so many years, Merlin could read Arthur's moods better than anyone. He had paid enough attention to learn and understand. He had reached out in his own way and with a great deal of patience. That kind of consideration had nothing to do with the fact that he was Arthur's servant and everything to do with being Arthur's _friend_.

He knew that even though the prince wouldn't admit to it, he did consider Merlin to be a friend. After all, there was no way he would have put up with all of that insolence from someone he didn't care about. There was a good chance that Merlin was actually one of Arthur's very first real friends instead of someone playing the part simply because he was the prince. All in all, Arthur was probably still learning what it was like to have friends, and if Merlin and Gwaine were to be believed, the prince was rather unobservant most of the time.

Perhaps it was to be expected that he wouldn't know much about the secrets Eiwyn had revealed about their youngest companion. Elyan was sure that there were at least one or two moments where Arthur _had_ noticed something, but for all of Merlin's open hospitality and friendliness, he was a bit of a puzzle, contradicting in a lot of ways. It wasn't at all unreasonable to assume that he would have hidden the more painful occurrences in his life, not wanting to worry the people he cared about. That's just the way he was.

Gwaine had said it himself once before, that Merlin was stubborn. If there was something he didn't want anyone to find out, then no one would. It was a very unique but self-damaging strength that he possessed—the ability to put the needs and comforts of others before yourself even if it means swallowing your grief and pretending everything's fine.

It was all very noble and selfless, and in some cases it was perfectly reasonable, but in regards to Merlin, one very important question still remained, one that would determine whether it was truly reasonable or not.

"_There's so much weight on your heart, so much loss… How can you still stand with a heart that heavy?"_

Just how deep were the scars that Merlin carried upon his heart?

"_Stronger people have fallen in the face of such despair."_

He didn't know the answer.

"_Why…why are you even still alive?"_

He wasn't sure if he wanted to.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well, there you have it :) Another week, another chapter. I promise I'll get to Arthur's POV next chapter. In fact, most of the next chapter will likely be from his perspective. I'm rather looking forward to it :)

**Review Responses:** As always, thank you for the reviews :) I managed to answer all of them this time, I think. If I forgot any, I'm very sorry (the review reply feature is a wonderful thing :) And because I can, I'll always make sure to answer anonymously posted reviewers at the end of each chapter, so here goes!

Felicity P: Yay! Hello again :) I'm glad you're enjoying my new fic. I'm having rather a lot of fun with it. I do tend to be rather mean to Merlin though. The poor boy really does need a hug. I did manage to get through some of the reactions to what happened, and I'll definitely get through the rest next week...I think. I suppose it depends on how long the chapter gets. I'm rather good at making everything longer than I expect it to be :)


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** Hello again :) I hope everyone had a relaxing weekend and a merry Christmas (or just a relaxing weekend for anyone who doesn't celebrate Christmas :) Not much to say today, as not much has happened. I have a new game though (sort of). My sister coerced me into buying Terraria on my Steam account. It's actually kind of addicting. I haven't played a video game in so long. I've rather missed it :)

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language.f  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know. Feel free to let me know if you see something.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin.

I'm so sad that Season 4 has ended, although I enjoyed it immensely. Now comes the agonising wait, but at least I have lots of fanfiction to entertain myself with :)

I only read through this once after writing it, so if there are any huge errors, please point them out :)

Onward, and I hope you enjoy! Lots of Arthur, just like I promised :)

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 13<p>

"_You should have noticed."_

Those words kept echoing in his head as he watched Gwaine walk away and take his place by Merlin's side, sinking down to the floor next to the servant. Much like Lancelot had, he spoke softly to the boy and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, not at all hesitant or ashamed about such an open display of compassion and concern. He was fairly certain that Gwaine didn't know the meaning of the word shame (or propriety, for that matter), and maybe…maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. It was so easy for him and Lancelot to just _be_ friends to Merlin, to show that they cared, and right now that was exactly what he needed even if he wasn't saying it.

Sometimes—only sometimes, mind you—Arthur wished he could be like that.

It seemed though, that for all their efforts, nothing had been accomplished as far as Merlin went. He was still sitting against the wall, curled so tightly and into such a small figure that Arthur couldn't help but wonder if he were trying to become so small that he simply disappeared. He looked so tired, weary, beaten down…as if his whole world had suddenly fallen down around him and he just couldn't deal with it. In all the years he had known Merlin, he had never once seen him like this.

Then again…apparently there was a lot he hadn't seen when it came to Merlin. He was certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that those few moments in that courtyard were ones he would never forget for as long as he lived.

As the prince of Camelot, he had seen a great deal of the world's unfair atrocities for someone as young as he was. He had seen all sorts of battles, watched people die in horrible ways, and had been the cause of more deaths than he could count. He had lost so many of his men over the years, the people he fought with everyday, and all of their deaths weighed heavily on his heart, because unlike his father, he didn't believe that his life was worth more than theirs. No one should have to die for him.

Amongst his many losses were three exceptionally painful ones, the first being his mother. That was a weight he would carry all his life, though he didn't dwell on it often. There was nothing he could have done to change it—the fault wasn't his. It would always hurt, but he could handle it. The second and third were a bit harder and were losses of a different kind altogether: Morgana and his father.

Ever since the takeover, he had spent a lot of time wondering where things had gone wrong. When had Morgana changed? How long had she been plotting their downfall, all the while pretending that she was still their friend? She had joked with him, smiled, laughed, had done all the things she had always done in his presence, and all the while she had been betraying them. How had he not seen it? He had thought he had known her so well, had loved her like a brother, and in the end she had turned on them, betraying her family, their _father_…and in the end, that had been too much for Uther to take.

Thanks to Morgana, the king was nothing more than a shadow of his former self. He barely spoke and rarely ever acknowledged the people around him. He had gotten a little better over the last two months but not by much, and it would likely take a long time for him to regain even a semblance of what he once was. Even though Uther was still alive, he wasn't the same man that Arthur had known all his life. He was empty, broken—the heart could only take so much before it shattered beyond repair.

He couldn't help but be reminded of his father's brokenness as he looked at Merlin huddled against the wall, ignoring every attempt at comfort and trying to close himself off from the world around him.

Arthur liked to believe that he could understand what grief was like, how it felt to suffer loss and betrayal and regret, but looking at Merlin, he couldn't help but wonder if he truly understood any of it at all.

_How did I miss this?_ It was a question that had been circling his mind ever since Eiwyn had vanished, leaving Merlin as nothing more than a pale, haunted mess. As much as he didn't want to believe it, he knew that everything she had said was true. It had to be, because Merlin wouldn't have reacted the way he had if she had been lying. He would have denied it or told her she was wrong, but instead he had only pleaded for her to stop in a voice that was nothing short of tortured.

She had dug her way into his heart without permission, and if Arthur had only known sooner what her intentions were, he never would have allowed her to get so close to Merlin. Unfortunately, by the time he had been able to react, the damage had already been done, and not one of them seemed to know how to deal with it. He wasn't even sure where to start, because most of what Eiwyn had said didn't make a lot of sense. There were too many pieces missing, too many things he didn't understand, and unfortunately the only place to start would be with Merlin. He was the only one who had been able to grasp what Eiwyn was talking about.

…Except he couldn't ask Merlin. He just _couldn't_, because Merlin still looked devastated and wrecked, and Arthur didn't know how to deal with it. He had never seen his servant like this. Merlin was supposed to be the one who cheered everyone else up, not the other way around. Whenever something devastating happened or the world suddenly looked far too bleak, Merlin would be there with his wise words, his unwavering faith and loyalty, and his pure, honest compassion. He was always there to make things right again, to hold onto hope when everything seemed lost.

…And yet all the while, he had been suffering more than anyone.

"_How can you still stand with a heart that heavy?"_

Eiwyn had implied more than once that Merlin had suffered far more than anyone could imagine, that the grief he had gone through should have crushed him long ago. Had she simply been overestimating the impact of whatever pain he had suffered…or was she underestimating Merlin?

Perhaps neither one was right. Maybe there really had been times in Merlin's life where his despair was all-consuming and seemingly endless. Maybe there were things in his life that he regretted just as deeply as anyone else. Maybe that smile of his really was that disarming.

But still…why hadn't he noticed?

Arthur tried to think back, to find a moment where Merlin might have been faking his good mood and easy attitude, a moment where some of that pain had shown through. He could only recall a few where it had felt like there was something more going on, where there had been a sadness about him that wasn't easily explained, and in hindsight he cursed himself for not pressing harder for an answer and merely accepting Merlin's ill-conceived explanations (because accepting was easier than trying to find the truth, and dealing with Merlin could be exasperating at the best of times).

One of the first was years ago with the Questing Beast and Merlin's odd but earnest speech. It was the first time but not the last where Merlin had told him that he'd be a great king one day. In his own way, he had even been trying to give the prince some advice. He had seemed so serious and forlorn during his speech, two words that weren't often associated with Merlin. At the time, he hadn't thought much of it, but…it had sounded like he was saying goodbye, and then the very next day he had disappeared along with Gaius only for them to return soaked to the bone and exhausted. He had given some stupid reason about gathering herbs or some such nonsense, and Arthur hadn't been in the mood to listen or press for a better answer. He wished he had.

The next two were quite a while later. The one was when he had found Merlin sitting on the floor polishing his boots with a depressed and weary look on his face. It wasn't often that Merlin looked like that, and for all his constant complaining, he knew that Merlin didn't mind his chores, that he did like being Arthur's servant. However, he could admit that there were times where he wasn't entirely fair to the younger man, and so he had apologized for his behavior earlier in the week. Things had been alright after that, but there had still been cases where Merlin would get a far off look on his face, as if he were miles away from Camelot.

He was certain now that there had been more to it than he had thought, but once again Merlin had thrown up his walls and pushed the truth behind them, and Arthur hadn't bothered to look for it.

Probably the one that stood out the most for him though was the incident where Morgana disappeared and the dragon was released. He hadn't thought much of it at the time because everyone had been exhausted and weary, but Merlin had simply looked worn down, tired in a way that wasn't from a lack of sleep. He had been subdued and quiet during their trip to find Balinor, as if something had been weighing on his mind, and when the Dragonlord had died, Merlin had acted as if he had lost someone close to him and not just a stranger he had known for merely a day.

Arthur knew that unlike him and his men, Merlin hadn't been trained to mask his emotions or to bite down his grief. The loss of life affected him far greater, and not once had he ever seemed ashamed of it. He didn't even like _hunting_ because he didn't like having to watch something die or be the cause of death. He was far too kind and compassionate for his own good, and one day that kind heart of his would surely get him killed if he wasn't careful. One day he would bestow his sympathy and his trust on the wrong person and end up with a knife in his back.

Woe be to any person who would ever dare to betray Merlin, for Arthur would rain down the full fury of Camelot on them without a second thought.

"_You give so much of yourself away. Why do you continue to trust when it only brings you pain? Your heart has been trampled upon, crushed so many times, over and over…"_

…But it seemed that Merlin had already been betrayed, and no one had done anything to help him. He hadn't been there.

He hadn't _noticed_.

Merlin had hidden it from him, had acted like his insolent, cheerful self, giving the impression that nothing was wrong, and whenever the façade slipped, he quickly put it right back up and kept on pretending that he was fine. More often than not, his ploy was convincing. He was always joking around and laughing, complaining about his chores but always getting everything done with a smile still on his face. Even if something did seem to be upsetting him, he always got over it and went right back to being the idiot that everyone knew him as.

…But that was somewhat of a lie, wasn't it? He wasn't alright and probably hadn't been for a long while, but no one had really noticed—not him, not Gwen, not the knights. It seemed that even though Merlin was an incompetent liar, he had no trouble when it came to lying about himself.

No more.

He wasn't getting away with it this time.

_No more_.

If Eiwyn was right—if everything she had said to him really was the truth, then something had to be done before it became too much. Merlin was always so willing to carry everyone else's burdens but never to share his own, and if left to his own devices, that weight would one day crush him. There was only so much pain the heart could take, and he knew what a broken one looked like.

He had lost so many people already. There was no way in hell he was losing Merlin.

"Sire?"

Arthur quickly pulled himself out of his reverie, realizing that he had probably been staring off into nothing for quite a while. He glanced over at Elyan who was still standing close by and watching him with a somewhat concerned look.

"Are you alright?" the knight asked, and even though the honest answer would be no, he still found himself covering up his doubt and masking the self-deprecating expression that had most likely been on his face.

"It's nothing," he said, the lie slipping out far too easily. "I'm fine."

He almost winced as those words left his mouth. They were a lie, pure and simple, and yet how many times had he accepted them over the years? How many times, even in just the past few days, had he heard those words?

Merlin was rather fond of them, after all.

Enough was enough. He wasn't going to abide being lied to again, not this time. No one in their right mind could look at Merlin the way he was now and believe that he was fine. It was time to do something about it, and if that meant swallowing his pride, then so be it. Just this once, he could handle it.

Without another word, he began to make his way across the room towards Merlin. He tried his best to convince himself that he wasn't nervous, because princes don't get nervous, especially not about confronting their servants, but he got the feeling that he wasn't doing a good job of hiding his apprehension.

A part of him—a very _small_ part—was actually starting to get rather frustrated, because honestly, _why_ was this so hard? All he had to do was _talk_ to Merlin. How hard was that? He had faced sorcerers, witches, magical beasts, a bloody_ dragon_, and yet the simple thought of confronting _Merlin_ had him almost wishing he could just run away and pretend nothing had happened. It was completely ridiculous, but at the same time, he had been trained to handle monsters and attackers and all sorts of enemies, but he had never once been taught what to do in a situation like this. He didn't know how to help someone who was hurting, and in the face of such despair, he wasn't sure if he'd even be able to find the right words…or any words at all, really.

When he got a bit closer, he immediately drew Lancelot's attention. The knight merely watched him for a moment before what looked like understanding flickered in his eyes, and he very swiftly got to his feet. He motioned for Gwaine to follow his lead, but it seemed rather obvious that the other knight had no intention of getting up, glaring rather angrily at Arthur, and he had every right to. It would actually be a fitting punishment to have Gwaine sitting there, judging his every word and action, because in some ways he deserved it.

However, in the end, Lancelot said something to him that had him reluctantly removing himself from Merlin's side. He was still glaring though, warning Arthur against doing something that would hurt their friend further. He would likely resort to more physical means of reprimanding this time if anything were to happen. Despite being a knight of Camelot, it was very clear where his loyalties lay.

He couldn't help but wonder what it said about him as a leader and as a prince that he didn't really care about that fact as much as he probably should have.

With Lancelot and Gwaine standing far enough away to hold their own conversation and not overhear his, Arthur covered the last few feet until he was standing in front of Merlin. He hadn't moved at all, still sitting there with his legs drawn up and his head down. Whether he realized that Arthur was standing there or not, the prince didn't know, but the last thing he wanted was to startle him.

Very slowly he dropped down, crouching in front of his servant so that they were on the same level. It wasn't at all proper, but that was the last thing on his mind at the moment. It usually was when he was dealing with Merlin. There was really nothing at all conventional about their relationship, and though he was reluctant to admit it, he rather liked things that way.

He hesitated at first, taking some time to collect his thoughts, before he very softly called out to his friend.

"Merlin?"

There was no jolt, no shudder, nothing at all to indicate that he'd even heard him, but the prince remained patient and just waited for a response, and sure enough, he got one.

Very slowly as if he were just waking up, Merlin finally raised his head. When those blue eyes managed to find his own, something in his chest clenched painfully tight and he suddenly felt like someone had punched him in the stomach.

Sad didn't even begin to describe the expression staring back at him.

He had _never_ seen a look like that on Merlin's face before, and that included both of the times that he had seen his servant cry. He had seen Merlin grieve, but there was something so much more in those eyes than just grief, and Arthur didn't even know where to begin trying to fix this. That clenching in his chest was refusing to go away, and although it took a moment, he was able to recognize part of what it was.

Guilt.

Guilt, because he knew he was partially to blame for this. He hadn't been there. He hadn't noticed.

Swallowing thickly, he composed himself as best he could under the circumstances and focused on the reason that he was doing this. He wanted answers…but he also wanted to help the one person who was always there to help _him_.

It wouldn't be easy, but at the very least he had to try.

"Merlin," he began, speaking in a low but soft tone as he did his best to try and understand the man sitting across from him, "I know that you probably don't want to talk about it, but I need to know if what she said is true. I won't ask for an explanation—not now, anyway. I just want you to answer honestly."

He waited a moment, just to make sure that Merlin really was listening to him, before asking.

"Was it true?"

When Merlin's response finally came, his voice was nothing more than a whisper.

"…Which part?"

"All of it."

For a moment after it was said, he felt certain that Merlin wasn't going to answer or that he'd just lie. There was a hint of wariness and fear hidden behind the despair, but only a moment later it faded. In the end, he found himself wishing that it hadn't, that Merlin had remained guarded, because what replaced that wariness was a look of exhaustion and defeat.

He was _tired_, and as he pulled himself up tighter and lowered his head again, a very small word escaped him on a sigh.

"…Yes."

And just like that, Merlin curled in upon himself once more, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts. He didn't get to see the way the prince clenched his hands into fists until his knuckles turned white. He didn't see the anger or guilt or sorrow that crossed his face or the way he was looking at his servant, as if he were trying to apologize a thousand times over but didn't know the words…because Arthur had known what the truth would be. He had already known the answer to his question, had known it ever since Eiwyn had forced her way into Merlin's soul and bore it for all of them to see.

He had known the answer even though he had desperately been hoping he was wrong, because that meant that he really _hadn't_ noticed, that there were times where Merlin had suffered from some unknown pain and he hadn't done anything about it. It meant that even though Merlin had always been there every time Arthur needed him—every time he needed hope and support, a wise word or an ear that would listen, a confidant to advise him or even just a friend he could open up to—he hadn't been there for Merlin, and he had no excuse, because Merlin _wasn't_ just a servant to him; he never had been.

He didn't even know how to begin making up for this, for being so self-centered and ignorant, because there had to have been signs. Grief like that couldn't be so easily masked…and yet he hadn't seen. He hadn't even _looked_.

"…I'm sorry."

The apology escaped him before he could do anything about it, but he found that once those two words were out in the open, he didn't regret saying them.

This time around Merlin did react, his body tensing before he raised his head again. There was genuine surprise there along with a bit of curiosity, and even though the pain hadn't left his eyes, Arthur still counted it as a victory. Anything was better than that look of utter defeat and wariness. Those sort of things didn't belong on his insolent, kindhearted servant.

"What for?" Merlin asked, his voice still barely more than a whisper, but it was a little stronger than before.

"I don't know," he said, because he didn't, not really. He didn't know what he had missed, what he hadn't been a part of, but he was sorry for not being there. He was sorry that Merlin had ever suffered at all. "I just felt I should say it. I don't know what you've been through, but if any of it was my fault, then I'm sorry."

If Merlin was shocked that Arthur had just apologized again, he didn't show it. All he did was watch the prince, almost as if he were trying to read him, to judge whether he could trust the apology he had been given (and that thought hurt just a bit, but he also knew it was justified, because Arthur rarely apologized, least of all to Merlin).

It was a long and tense moment before the gaze looking back at him softened in genuine appreciation. It was a very kind look, and for the first time since this whole thing started, Merlin offered him a smile. It was barely anything at all, a mere fragment of his usual cheery grin, but it was still there, and that had to count for something.

"…Thank you."

Arthur couldn't help himself. Before he knew it, he was smiling right back, and for a moment it seemed like things could start getting back to normal and that maybe he'd be able to ask Merlin about some of the things he had missed (because he wanted to know, now that he knew that there was a part of his friend's life that had been hidden from him), but just like that, Merlin drew in a sharp breath, his expression fading back to what it was before. He quickly lowered his head, hiding away again and hugging himself tightly.

"Merlin?" he called, worried that something was wrong. He reached out but stopped when he heard the boy heave a deep sigh, his body shuddering with the force of it.

"I'll be alright," Merlin said, his voice muffled a bit but definitely stronger than it had been. "I just need a bit more time is all."

"What exactly did she do to you?"

"It's nothing, she just…pulled everything up at once, and I just need to wait until it fades again."

"How long will that take?"

"…I don't know. I'll be fine, I promise. I just need time."

He supposed he would just have to accept that (despite how vague those explanations were), because he clearly wasn't going to get any other answers. He was just going to have to trust that Merlin was telling him the truth this time.

Besides, there was something else he wanted to know.

"Alright, I won't ask about it, but Merlin…about what Eiwyn said before—she mentioned something about 'awareness.' What did she mean?"

He received no answer, and since Merlin had his head bowed again, he couldn't read his expression to find out why he wasn't getting one. The silence just kept stretching.

"Merlin?"

"…I can't."

The words were so quiet that he wasn't entirely sure he had even heard them.

"What?"

"I can't… Not yet. Not right now—please, Arthur."

Merlin was begging. That alone wasn't so unusual, but the sheer desperation in his voice was, and that thing in his chest that he was fairly certain was supposed to be his heart clenched again. He was about to say something when Merlin cut him off, still pleading in that scared, almost broken tone.

"I promise I'll tell you. I promise, just not now—not right now, _please_…"

"Alright."

Because really, what else could he say in the face of such vulnerable desperation?

"It's alright. I won't ask again. You can tell me whenever you're ready."

"…Thank you."

Once more they lapsed back into silence, and this time it wasn't likely to end anytime soon, so instead of crouching on the floor in front of his servant, Arthur dragged himself over the wall and proceeded to sit down next to him. He was too tired to go looking for more stuff they could use for the night and he didn't feel like fetching his pack from where he'd dumped it on the other side of the room just yet. He was physically and mentally exhausted, and he still had far too much weighing on his mind to be of much use doing anything else.

Once more he found his thought drifting back to what Eiwyn had said, about everything that Merlin had kept hidden, and about how much he didn't know. There was one thing in particular though that was bothering him, something he couldn't quite shake no matter how many times he tried to convince himself otherwise. He wanted to believe that he was just reading too much into it, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the thought out of his head.

When he had apologized to Merlin the second time, he had been expecting some kind of reassurance, the type of response that Merlin usually gave.

"_It's not your fault."_

"_Don't worry about it."_

"_You don't have to apologize._

"_You haven't done anything."_

But there had been no reassuring, no consolation, no attempts at comfort or correction. Instead Merlin had _thanked_ him. Not once did he imply that what Arthur had said was wrong.

He hadn't told him that he didn't have anything to be sorry for.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well, what do you think? Definitely much more to come on this topic, because Arthur's POV is fun and he didn't get to find out too much yet. There shall be a bit more of guilty concerned Arthur next week as well as more stuff about the overall plot (at least that's my plan. Me and plans don't always get along that well).

Once again, thank you for all the wonderful reviews. I didn't get to respond until, well, a few hours ago, but there was a lot I wanted to say :) I really do appreciate all the support. You guys really make my week. Sorry about the rambling I tend to do in them. I have this problem with not being able to say anything in just a few words (and I can find something to say for just about everything, believe me).

Anyway, thanks for reading everyone, and I'll see you all next week!


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: It's late, I'm tired, and I've gotta be to work early tomorrow, so I'm going to keep this short today :)

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language.f  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know. Feel free to let me know if you see something.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin.

So...there is actually a lot less of the overall plot in this chapter than I originally intended. I got a bit too ambitious. However, I did introduce something that is part of the plot and shall be important, so yay!

Massive portions of this chapter haven't properly been proofread, so if you do see anything glaringly obvious, please point it out. It will definitely help me out in the long run :)

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><p>CHAPTER 14<p>

In all honesty, he hadn't really expected to actually be able to convince Gwaine to leave Merlin's side. They had both been trying to comfort him in some way but to no avail since the warlock had seemed adamant that there wasn't anything they could do. However, Gwaine had made it perfectly clear that he intended to stay just in case, and Lancelot had learned early on that despite his almost careless personality, the knight was nothing if not fiercely loyal. Gwaine had seemed pretty resolute and unyielding in his decision, even going so far as to actually glare at the prince as Arthur had made his way over.

However, he had known that whatever Arthur intended to say was probably something that Merlin needed to hear, and the two of them would only be in the way if they stayed. Therefore he had had to convince the other man to leave their friend alone with Arthur for a while, and although he had been reluctant to do so, Gwaine had agreed in the end (it seemed that despite his still simmering anger towards the royal, he was wise enough to know that this was something that both Arthur _and_ Merlin needed).

He wasn't entirely sure how he had managed to do it, really, but he was certainly grateful that he had, because from where the two of them were standing, they could watch the interaction between prince and servant without either one knowing that they were being observed. They were too far away to hear what was being said—that had been the point, after all—but the context was easy enough to understand to a certain extent. As inadequate as Arthur could be at times when it came to matters of the heart and of simply interacting with the people he cared about, he was obviously doing something right. Merlin was actually _talking_ to him.

That was leaps and bounds ahead of what he and Gwaine had managed. Merlin hadn't told them anything, and not once had he raised his head to look at them. He was doing both for Arthur, and the prince, well…it certainly wasn't often that they got to see a look like that on Arthur's face. It was true that he was a bit more open around their small group, the people who had fought with him to reclaim Camelot, but it was still a rare thing to see him so unguarded and vulnerable. He looked sad and guilty, but there was a great deal of concern there as well, and the knight found himself smiling just a bit in spite of it.

Sometimes it was easy to forget that even though Arthur was a prince, the future king of Camelot, the acting regent, and above all their leader…he was still only human, and when it came to dealing with people, especially the ones closest to him, he could sometimes be a bit clumsy with his interactions. He made a lot of mistakes, and sometimes he was a bit too harsh, and _yes_, he really could be incredibly oblivious and ignorant at times, but he was a good man with a good heart who genuinely did care about the people in his life even if he wasn't always good at showing it.

In the end, he was only human just like the rest of them. Everyone made mistakes, and it would be unfair to hold all his shortcomings against him when they had so many of their own. He was learning, slowly but surely, and that's what mattered.

While Merlin and Arthur continued to converse, Lancelot continued to observe them silently (and one look at Gwaine showed that he was doing much the same). It wasn't long before they were joined by Elyan, and like them, he seemed perfectly content to just stay quiet and watch. It wasn't until Arthur positioned himself against the wall and sat down next to Merlin that they finally turned their eyes away.

Lancelot half expected Gwaine to head right back over there, as stubborn as he was, but the knight seemed to have other ideas. Instead that steady gaze honed in on him, and he would have been lying if he didn't admit to being just a little unnerved by it. That was the look of someone who had a lot of questions and didn't intend to rest until he got some answers.

In hindsight, he should have known this would be coming. After all, Gwaine was a lot more observant than people gave him credit for, and it didn't take a genius to realize that Lancelot spent a lot of time with Merlin. There were things he knew about the warlock that no one else did. Unfortunately for Gwaine, he had no intentions of revealing anything that wasn't his right to share. Many of Merlin's secrets belonged only to Merlin, and he had no intention of betraying the trust that had been placed in him.

In a world full of people who could very well turn against his friend if they ever discovered what he was, Lancelot had vowed to be someone that Merlin could rely on. If he could relieve even the slightest bit of the warlock's heavy burden, then he would do so gladly, no matter the cost.

When the silence was finally broken, he was taken a bit by surprise to find that it wasn't Gwaine who chose to shatter it but Elyan. He had been observing Arthur and Merlin like they had, but unlike the look Gwaine was giving him—a mixture of curiosity and accusation—Elyan just looked concerned.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" he asked, and it didn't take a genius to figure out who he was talking about.

"Eventually," Lancelot answered, glancing back at the warlock who was still huddled against the wall though he seemed far less tense than before. "He just needs some time is all."

"Do you know what she did to him?"

No, he didn't—not for sure, anyway. Merlin hadn't told him anything, but he had a pretty good idea given the state he was in.

"…No, not really." He immediately found himself wishing that he had sounded a bit more sure of himself, because Gwaine very quickly picked up on the fact that he wasn't.

"But you have an idea," the man said, and although it should have been a question, it wasn't. Gwaine was entirely sure of himself, and in the end there really wasn't much that could be done about it, because when he put his mind to it, Gwaine could be very persistent, and until Lancelot answered, he wasn't likely to be left alone.

Besides, telling them this much wouldn't do any harm.

"Yes, though I can't be certain," he said. "I think that when she was reading him, she made him relive it—every painful memory, every loss, all his mistakes and regrets. It would explain why he's like this now."

He didn't miss the concern that flashed across their faces or the contemplating looks that crossed a moment later as they glanced over at the warlock. Lancelot couldn't help but wonder if they were coming to the same conclusion he had a long time ago, one he had stumbled across more than once in all his interactions with Merlin.

What he had said two months ago at the round table, about Arthur showing him what it meant to be a knight, to live his life and fight for what is right and just, was nothing more or less than the honest truth…but it was Merlin who had shown him through his loyalty, selflessness, and humility, what it meant to truly be strong. To watch him every day serving Arthur and running around for Gaius, taking the time to greet people and talk to Gwen, offering a helping hand and a smile to anyone and everyone, and all the while knowing that he had power at his disposal that most could scarcely imagine… It was so very humbling and astounding, and it made him wonder if he could ever achieve the kind of strength that came to Merlin so easily.

He truly was braver than anyone Lancelot had ever met, and it wasn't fair that no one else could see it, but for now that was how things had to be. It was for the best.

Of course, that didn't mean he had to like it.

"…It's kind of hard to believe, isn't it," said Elyan softly, drawing Lancelot away from his thoughts and back to the conversation at hand. "I've watched him a few times with Arthur and with Gwen, and the way he acts… You'd never think he was hiding something like this."

"We all have our burdens and regrets," said Gwaine in what could be called a rare moment of wisdom. "But I'm starting to think he has more than most."

That last part was said while looking directly at _him_, and Lancelot immediately knew that he wasn't about to get out of this conversation so easily. Gwaine _knew_ that he knew more than he was letting on, and he was apparently determined to get his answers. Those eyes narrowed a bit, fixing him with a stern stare.

"You know, don't you," he said.

It wasn't a question.

"…Yes, but only some of it." There was no point in lying when Gwaine already knew the answer.

"Care to enlighten us?"

"I can't. They aren't my stories to tell."

It looked like Gwaine was about to protest, to demand that he be told something so that he could help Merlin, but Lancelot knew exactly what to say to silence all further protests, because if there was one thing the two of them had in common, it was their mutual desire to protect their friend.

"I made a promise that I would not breathe a word of what Merlin told me to anyone. It's not my right, and I have no intention of betraying him. I would give up my knighthood before ever breaking my word. Surely you can understand that?"

It was both a testament and a challenge, and although he could see that Gwaine wasn't entirely happy with not getting the answers he wanted, he also knew what his choice would be. He watched as that intense stare softened, the tension leaking out of the other knight as he heaved a somewhat defeated sigh. In a few short moments he had reverted back to the carefree tavern loafer that Lancelot had gotten to know rather well the last two months.

"I certainly can, my friend," he said good-naturedly, offering a slight grin that Lancelot had no problem returning. Gwaine's attention soon strayed off again to where Arthur and Merlin were, his grin widening just a bit. "Guess we should probably join them. It's starting to get dark in here, and I could use something to eat. It's been a long day."

"I couldn't agree more," said Elyan. "We could all do with some rest, and maybe tomorrow we'll be able to figure something out."

"Let's hope so. I don't like the idea of staying here for too long."

As the three of them began to head over to where Arthur and Merlin were, Lancelot kept his silence and watched his fellow knights converse. He knew what they were doing or at least what they were trying to do, but despite the levity of their conversation, he knew that they were still worried. It was a way of coping with the situation, because everything was so far out of their control that it was better to just not think about it sometimes. Dwelling on it would do them no good, and in all honesty, the best way for them to help Merlin right now was to try and act like everything was the same as before. The warlock didn't like being coddled, and badgering him with questions would probably do more harm than good. He could be extremely obstinate when he felt like it.

However…sooner or later he would have to tell them, because there were some questions they needed the answers to. Merlin knew more about the vale than the rest of them. He understood some of what was going on, and even the smallest bit of information could prove useful. He was able to sense the air around them, air that was filled with magic and with all the lives that had been lost. Somehow Merlin was able to feel them, and they needed to figure out if there was a way they could use that to find a way to escape. If anyone could find a way out of this mess, it would be Merlin, and no matter what that entailed, he would be there to help him every step of the way.

They would get through this—all of them, together.

They _had_ to.

* * *

><p><em>Why won't you all just go away?<em> It was something he desperately wanted to shout out as loud as he could in hopes that it would actually push all the voices away that insisted on screaming at him, but he got the feeling that his companions would either take it the wrong way or think he was losing his mind. The latter probably wasn't too far off, actually. It was hard to concentrate on anything let alone think when it felt like someone was prodding at him to try and get his attention, screaming and whispering and crying all at the same time and from every direction only for them to pull away the moment he tried to find them.

It was annoying, and it definitely wasn't helping him any. He still felt awful, and the constant distraction wasn't doing him any good. There were just too many voices…although that wasn't _really_ what they were. He just couldn't think of a better word for them, because even though he couldn't actually hear anyone, it still felt like they were trying to say something to him, to reach him in some way, but he couldn't connect with any of them, couldn't talk back or reach out, and he was far too afraid to simply let them in. He would surely be overwhelmed if he did.

It was practically impossible for him to differentiate between all the different voices, all the emotions being thrown at him and pushing at the back of his mind, but there was one where if he listened, he could almost hear it. He wasn't entirely sure if it belonged to one of them or if it resided somewhere within his own head, but there was a presence that almost seemed to be talking to him, the words echoing in his mind in a way that wasn't at all like he had experienced before. There was no tone, no sound, nothing at all to indicate that someone was speaking…and yet he could _feel_ it.

It was almost calming.

_Breathe deep. Relax._

_It'll be alright._

_Breathe deep._

Merlin was determined to at least try to do what it said, because the advice seemed sound enough, and he was tired of feeling like the world was crashing down around him. He had managed to work through his grief before, and he would do it again, because if he didn't, he'd never be able to move forward. It was still painful, and it probably always would be, but he could handle it. In the end, he always did.

_Breathe deep. It'll be alright._

He knew that it was extremely foolish and probably more than a little naïve to believe in the words of a voice he couldn't hear that belonged to someone he didn't know who may or may not even _exist_…but then again, he wasn't exactly known for being rational. Why start now? Besides, it was almost soothing in a way, a calming presence amidst a sea of chaos. Focusing on those words actually helped, and the more he took in, the easier it became to bury all of his excess feelings, all the pain that Eiwyn had pulled to the surface.

After a few more moments, he found that only a dull ache remained, and even that too faded in the end until he felt much the way he had before. Not a huge improvement, mind you, because he still felt quite ill, but it was a start.

With another deep breath, Merlin finally began to move, loosening the tight hold he had had on himself and allowing all his limbs to relax. He lifted his head and opened his eyes while allowing his arms to fall from around his knees as he moved his legs. Everything felt stiff, and he couldn't help but wonder just how long he had been sitting there like that.

Too long, apparently.

The last time he had looked up, Arthur had been sitting next to him, but now the prince was across the room, rifling through his pack. Lancelot and Elyan were just a little ways away going through some of the other bags, pulling out what looked like every scrap of food they had brought with them, and it was Gwaine who was now sitting next to him against the wall. When he noticed that the warlock was no longer hiding away and ignoring the world, he broke into a grin and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," he greeted. "Feeling any better?"

"A little." His voice came out sounding soft and a bit thick—he hadn't used it much in the last however many hours it had been. It was starting to get kind of dark in the room, so he figured that at least a few had to have gone by.

"Glad to hear it. You had me worried there."

Despite the churning in his stomach and the overall unpleasant feeling that was still washing over him, he couldn't help but grin at the knight. It was kind of nice to have a friend around who wasn't afraid or ashamed to admit to such a thing as being worried. Gwaine had never really had a problem with acknowledging the fact that they were friends, unlike a certain prince…

But Arthur _was_ trying, wasn't he? He had apologized—_twice_, even—without being sarcastic or taking it back or using it in some way to insult in. He had actually meant it, and this time around he had allowed Merlin to _know_ he meant it. Arthur had tried to help, and that alone was enough to make him smile, because even though it wasn't likely that he'd ever say the words, his actions meant that he cared. It's not that Merlin had ever doubted that (he knew Arthur well enough to know that the prince had his own ways of expressing care and affection) but it was nice every once in a while to have proof that Arthur really did care about him beyond what their stations required.

Maybe one day he'd even be able to get Arthur to _admit_ it.

"Come on," said Gwaine with a light pat on his shoulder to get his attention. "It's been a long day, and we haven't eaten since breakfast. Lancelot and Elyan are dividing up our rations. Wouldn't want to run out too soon—don't know how long we might be here—but I'm sure they'll give us all a fair share."

At the very thought of food, his stomach protested rather violently, and the nausea was enough to wipe the smile off his face.

"I'm not hungry," he said softly, lowering his head so that he was staring down at his hands in his lap as they played with a frayed edge of his jacket. He didn't see the way Gwaine's grin slipped off his face nor did he see the way Elyan and Lancelot looked up from their task or how Arthur had begun to make his way over only to stop upon hearing those words. He missed all four of the looks being directed towards him, but he knew they were there. He really didn't want to make them worry—he _hated_ it—and yet he couldn't seem to do anything but.

"Are you sure?" Gwaine asked. "It might help you feel better."

"Trust me, it won't," he told them, even though he knew that sooner or later he was going to have to eat something no matter how ill he felt, but he just wasn't up to it. Maybe in the morning, but not now. "…I probably won't be able to keep it down."

The hand on his shoulder tightened a bit—not enough to hurt, but enough to let him know what his friend was feeling.

He wanted to tell him—to tell _all_ of them—that they didn't need to worry, that he was alright, but there was no point. It was a complete lie, and they'd all see through it anyway, but the temptation was still there nonetheless. He was just too used to it, to hiding things for one reason or another. He had so many secrets to keep, so many lies to protect, and sometimes it was hard to differentiate between all of them. Some secrets were to protect his life and some were to protect the lives of others, but there were also the ones he kept in order to keep the people around him happy, to keep them from being burdened with problems that weren't theirs to carry.

All of them had their own worries, their own fears, their own burdens. They didn't need his as well. It was just better if they didn't know.

…But he was just so tired, and the lie would be too obvious. If his appearance wasn't enough to give him away, then Eiwyn's words certainly were. They all knew something was wrong with him even if they didn't actually understand it.

Merlin was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed the rest of his friends coming over to sit around him. It wasn't until the hand on his shoulder retreated that he became aware of everyone else, although he merely glanced up for a short moment before lowering his head again. It was rather uncomfortable to be the center of everyone's attention. He would almost prefer to be ignored.

Almost.

"Merlin," he heard Elyan say, but he didn't raise his head or acknowledge him in the slightest. Apparently that wasn't enough to deter him. He asked his question anyway, with both care and caution. "Does this have something to do with what Eiwyn said…about you having 'awareness?'"

…Well, there it was. The one question he really didn't want to answer. He wasn't even sure if he _could_ answer it, because how was he supposed to explain it to them without sounding completely mad? How as he supposed to tell them that he could feel the air as if it were an actual presence, thick and heavy with magic and life and thousands upon thousands of souls crying out in despair and retribution, begging for an end that would never come? He barely understood it himself, so how could he possibly put it into words for people who didn't know what it felt like?

How could he possibly explain it to them without condemning himself, one way or another?

"…Merlin."

This time when his name was called, he looked up and found Arthur sitting before him much like he had been before with an expression that was earnest and unguarded. If he didn't know any better, he would have called it pleading.

"I know you don't want to talk about this," the prince began, his voice soft and cautious much like Elyan's had been, "and we won't force you to, but we can't help you if you don't tell us what's going on."

He didn't want to. He _really_ didn't want to, but they were all looking at him, anxious and concerned, waiting patiently for his answer. These were his friends, and they wanted to help, and of all people, it was _Arthur_ asking him. Arthur, who almost never asks him to do something—who orders it or demands it, yes, but never asks. It wasn't a command but a request. He wanted to know, but he was giving Merlin a choice, and there would be no penalty for choosing not to answer.

Not knowing what to do, the warlock began to worry at his bottom lip while he weighed his choices. Neither option was pleasant. He'd be risking something either way, but the truth of the matter was that he wanted to tell them, _all_ of them, to give them just the tiniest piece of himself if only to see what they would do with it.

He _wanted_ to…but could he trust them with this?

…_Tell them._

He did his absolute best not to give any sort of outward reaction as the words resounded through his mind, cutting through his thoughts and drawing his attention. It was that same presence from before, tugging at his thoughts and pulling him away.

_Relax. Tell them._

_Breathe deep._

_It'll be alright._

Merlin closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

_Okay,_ he said back. _Okay, I'll tell them_.

He knew it was foolish to put his trust into something he knew nothing about. It was silly and naïve to take advice from a voice that could very well just be in his own head. It certainly wasn't normal, but then again, nothing about this was normal, and he wasn't exactly a conventional person. Besides, it was telling him that he could trust them, that even if he chose to let them see a part of himself that he would normally keep hidden, everything would still be alright. He didn't have to lie or pretend.

He could trust them.

_Breathe deep. It'll be alright._

And he desperately wanted to.

"…Alright," he said, the word breathed out on a sigh. "Alright, I'll tell you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I'm sorry, I had to. I got to that line, and even though I had originally planned to do a lot more, the chapter was already 8 pages and I ran out of time, so I figured "why not?"  
>Feel free to hate me for it :) It does mean that there will be massive amounts of conversations in the next chapter though.<p>

As always, thank you to everyone reading this :) I hope you're enjoying my fic. Please feel free to drop a review, although I won't ask for them being the terrible reviewer that I am. I do love hearing from everyone though. Reviews give me something to look forward to when I get home from work :)

Happy new year, and I'll see you all next week!


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Tired...so very tired. I was determined to actually get through everything I wanted to this time, and now it's ridiculously early in the morning...but at least I don't work tomorrow, and my doctor appointment isn't until noon. Hurray for getting to sleep!

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language.  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know. Feel free to let me know if you see something.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin.

I didn't get around to responding to the reviews this week. My birthday was this weekend, and I literally spent the whole thing watching Doctor Who season 6 and season 4 of Merlin with my sister and our two best friends. It was wonderful :) It's always so much more fun to watch something with other people.

Once again, I only got to read through this once, so if you see any errors, please point them out.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter. Lots of dialogue, so hopefully it turned out alright :)

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 15<p>

"…Well?"

He tried his best not to sound impatient or pushy, knowing that this was an uncomfortable topic to be discussing, but Arthur got the feeling that at least some of his petulant curiosity managed to leak into the word. It was hard not to sink back into old habits, and he knew that patience wasn't one of his strong points. He didn't like waiting, and yet that's exactly what all of them were being made to do.

Merlin had said that he would tell them, that he'd answer their question, but he had yet to speak another word. Instead he had his head down, his eyes unfocused as he kept absentmindedly fiddling with the frayed edge of his jacket.

However, it seemed that just that one prompt from Arthur was enough to jolt him back into the matter at hand. His head shot up and a somewhat sheepish, nervous look crossed his face before he lowered it again, hesitating once more before finally taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. It was likely meant to calm him, but if his hands were anything to go by, it obviously hadn't worked.

"Sorry," Merlin said with a faint shrug of his shoulders. "It's just hard to explain. I'm not really sure how to start."

His servant glanced up at him, a small but wry grin tugging at his lips as he slumped a bit further against the wall. There was something a lot like amusement in that expression, but now that he was looking—now that he was trying to understand—he could see that his grin didn't reach his eyes. Instead they seemed sad, disappointed, and maybe a bit hurt as well. When he spoke again, it was easy to see why.

"I actually tried to tell you earlier," he began, "back when we were walking through the mist, but you didn't listen."

It wasn't said like an accusation. There was nothing bitter or condemning about it, no blame in his voice, but Arthur took it exactly the way it should have been taken, because Merlin really _had_ tried to tell him that something wasn't right. He had tried to explain that he could feel something, could sense that there was something wrong, and all the prince had done was brush off his concern and insist that he was just being paranoid.

He should have listened. He really should have, because maybe if he had, they wouldn't be in this mess. Merlin had spent so much time over the past few days telling him that this was a terrible idea and insisting that they not get involved, and apparently he had had a good reason for being concerned, because now they were most likely trapped in the vale for the foreseeable future. It was true that they hadn't yet _tried_ to leave, but in all honesty, he had no intention of doing so. He had seen and heard enough to know that it wouldn't be a wise course of action. He couldn't simply disregard the story he had been told or all the proof around him claiming that there was no easy way out. After all, if they could get out as easily as they had wandered in, then someone would have done so already.

However, no one had ever come back after entering the vale. He didn't know why that was, and for once he wasn't inclined to figure it out through his usual means. Trial and error was a good way to end up dead in a place like this, and he really didn't want to die—he couldn't. He had made a promise to Gwen that they would all come home safely, and he had every intention of making sure that happened.

He didn't want to lose anymore people. He had already lost more than enough.

Knowing he needed to say something, Arthur did his best to push down the guilt that had arisen due to Merlin's accusation (because even though Merlin had said it without any blame or bitterness, that's still what it was) and instead fixed his expression into something firm and decisive, but at the same time he made sure to keep it honest and kind. He didn't want to make it seem like he was ordering him to answer or that he was in any way frustrated with him. That would only cause more harm than good, and he wanted Merlin to tell them because _he_ wanted to and not because he felt he had to.

Given all that he had learned that day, it was obvious that Merlin didn't view him as someone he could really talk to. He needed to change that.

Arthur made sure he had his friend's attention before speaking, his words soft and genuine, an apology in their own way.

"I'm listening now."

_And I'll keep listening. For however long it takes and whenever you need me to, I'll listen._

It was very brief, but a small smile graced Merlin's face, one that quelled some of the hurt in his eyes, and for once the prince didn't even try to pretend that the very sight was anything other than what it was—uplifting. Unfortunately it didn't last long, and before he knew it Merlin was staring at the floor again, looking to be deep in thought for a moment before his expression suddenly settled into something decisive. It seemed he had finally made up his mind, and with one last deep breath, he began.

"Ever since we entered the vale, something has just felt…_wrong_ about it," he said, his voice steady but his words cautious, as if he still wasn't entirely sure how to explain it to them in a way they could understand. "The air here is heavy. It's like trying to walk through water or maybe mud, and all the while there's something behind you, watching, but whenever you stop to look, there's no one there. For the longest time, I felt like someone was watching me, like there was something there even though I couldn't see it, but I didn't understand why until we were in that courtyard."

Merlin closed his eyes, clearly uncomfortable, but he pressed on anyway in a voice that was soft and shaky, like he was afraid of what he was about to reveal.

"What Eiwyn said about the mist is true," he told them. "It's part of an enchantment—a very old, very powerful one, but it…it's also made up of every life that has been lost here."

His hands stopped their nervous fiddling and clenched around the material they were holding until his knuckles turned white. Every word he spoke belayed more and more of his anxiety and desperation, two things that he normally didn't allow any of them to see.

"I…I can…_hear_ them. It's like there are thousands of voices, whispering and screaming at the same time, begging for someone to notice them, to _do_ something, and I…I can't block them out. In that courtyard, I tried to reach out to them, to understand what they were, and now I can't get their voices out of my head."

"Voices?" Elyan questioned, the curiosity unmistakable in his tone. It was something they were all feeling, because they wanted to be able to understand—not just for themselves but for Merlin's sake as well.

"What are they saying?" asked Gwaine, and upon hearing his question, Merlin opened his eyes again. The look in them was hard to read, but it had nothing to do with being guarded. It was as if he just didn't know how to explain it, how to tell them what it was like without losing them all along the way.

"Nothing," he told Gwaine, his voice quiet, but it grew with every sentence he spoke. "They're not saying anything. It's not—there aren't words, just…feelings, emotions. I can sort of feel them—some would call it empathy, I suppose. It's like there's a presence at the back of my mind, almost like that feeling you get when you can't remember something important, like a memory that's just out of reach…except that there are _hundreds_ of them.

"Everyone who has ever died here, their spirits were pulled into the air as their bodies returned to the earth, and no matter what they do, they can't get out. They keep crying—all they want is for their lives to just _end_, and even though I can hear them, I can't _do_ anything. They're asking for help, _begging_ for it, but I can't _help them_."

Those last two words were so desperate and sad and _guilty_, along with a bunch of other things, but there was a single word that actually described them all perfectly.

Tormented.

_Merlin, why…?_

A part of Arthur wanted nothing more than to reach over and smack his servant upside the head and yell at him for being such a bloody idiot. The other part was a lot more rational, and so instead of trying to slap some sense into his servant, he found himself resigned to dealing with him, because if there was one thing he knew about Merlin, one thing that was irrevocably true, it was that he cared more about others than he did himself. He was always trying to help people, always trying to fix things even if there was nothing he could do.

He was too kind and too selfless, and he was going to run himself into the ground one of these days if he didn't stop. One man couldn't carry the weight of the world, but it seemed that Merlin was trying to do exactly that. He kept placing far too much weight on his shoulders, and he didn't seem to have any intention of stopping. After all, this was the idiot who had burst into a room full of nobles and claimed to be a sorcerer, knowing it would get him killed but not caring if it meant he could save his friend. This was the noble fool who had knowingly drank poison to save Arthur and had been more than willing to do it again. This was Merlin who followed Arthur everywhere, who never listened, who constantly threw himself in harm's way in one fashion or another without a care for his own wellbeing if it meant saving the people he loved.

Words like brave and selfless just didn't seem like enough sometimes. Whatever Merlin was, Arthur hoped he would never change…yet at the same time he couldn't help but hate it.

_Why do you have to be like this?_

Because having a kind heart was both a strength and a weakness, and there were too few who appreciated the first and too many who would exploit the latter. Being the way he was meant he was that much more likely to get hurt, and if his current state was anything to go by, he was well on his way to breaking.

Why did it have to be Merlin? Out of all of them, why him? Why was he the only one who could hear the voices of the people who had died within the vale? There had to be a reason, something he had done differently. There had to be some way for the rest of them to hear them too so that Merlin wouldn't be alone in this. It wasn't fair to place the weight of thousands of lives on his shoulders and still expect him to stand, to carry on and pretend that it wasn't crushing him. What was even worse was that Merlin seemed to think he had to.

"I don't get it," Arthur said, the words coming out quite a bit louder and a lot more frustrated than he had intended them to be. "Why you? Why is it that only you can hear them?"

Well, so much for keeping a tight reign on his impatience. He got the feeling that it probably wasn't so much his question but the way he had asked it that earned him the looks he was getting. Gwaine was glaring at him again, taking the time to look away from Merlin in order to silently threaten him with a look that promised some manner of pain if he yelled at the servant again. Thankfully Lancelot and Elyan weren't glaring, but their expressions weren't much better. Lancelot was giving him a disapproving look, one that seemed to be trying to warn him away from this line of questioning. Even though he knew that the knight would never threaten him (at least not openly, anyway), it was clear that if he were to press Merlin for an answer in the same manner he just had that this time around, he wasn't going to be forgiven so easily.

It was Elyan's expression though that really made him wonder, because even though he clearly disapproved of Arthur's tone, he seemed almost curious about the question. The look on his face was a thoughtful one, as if he were slowly putting something together and was just searching for that last piece of information. He was the first to look away and return his attention to Merlin, and when Arthur did the same, he wasn't at all surprised to see how uneasy the boy looked.

The fear though was something he hadn't been expecting. Anxiety and unease, yes, but not fear. Merlin looked scared, and it wasn't the kind of fear that came with being startled or yelled at (God only knows how many times Arthur had yelled at him over the years only to be met with insolence or a wise reprimand). It almost seemed like he was afraid of the question, of what it would mean to answer it…but why? What was he so afraid of?

Whatever the answer was, it surely couldn't be that bad. Honestly, it was as if he thought something terrible would happen if they found out. What sort of conclusion was he jumping to that could put a look like that on his face? He looked like someone who was about to be accused of some heinous crime that wasn't their fault. Did he really think that they would automatically assume the worst, that they would turn on him? Did he really have so little faith in them?

No matter what, they weren't going to jump to conclusions. There was too much going on that they didn't understand, and it was likely that Merlin didn't know anything more than they did. This was all foreign to him as well, and just because he was aware of what was wrong didn't mean he knew why it was happening.

When the initial shock wore off and the fear faded from his eyes, Merlin lowered his head again. He gave a short, shaky sigh before slowly shaking his head.

"I don't know," he said, sounding almost dejected, as if he had somehow let them down with his answer. "I just can."

He said nothing more about it, and he didn't seem at all inclined to continue the conversation. He just looked tired and weary as if he wanted nothing more than to shut the world out again. There were still dark circles under his eyes, and he was so very pale. Merlin almost always exuded some kind of energy, but he just seemed drained of everything, as if being awake and aware was some huge chore that he was only just managing to handle.

Something was wrong. Something was very, _very_ wrong.

He wanted to ask, wanted to press for more answers, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, couldn't find the words he needed. However, he wasn't the only one who felt that there was something more at work, something that Merlin was still keeping from them. Beside him, Elyan's expression was still encompassed by that thoughtful look, and as he continued to watch Merlin, it became less curious and more decisive until it changed completely from contemplative to knowing.

"…There's more, isn't there," the knight said without any uncertainty in his voice. It wasn't a question, because there was no doubt as to what the answer would be.

It seemed Arthur didn't need to find the words after all. Elyan had done it for him.

Merlin glanced up at the knight, once again looking a little nervous.

"What do you mean?" he asked, although it was obvious that he already knew. Just as obvious was the fact that he didn't want to respond and was trying to think of a way out of it. However, if there was one thing all of them had in common, it was their tenacity. They weren't the types to let something go, especially when it came to helping someone important to them, and judging by the growing concern on Elyan's face, that's exactly what he was trying to do.

"You know what I mean," he said gently, keeping his voice and his words cautious as he continued. "Earlier, you said that you weren't hungry, that you didn't think you could keep anything down. In the courtyard, Eiwyn said that people with awareness—people like you—don't last long here…and you don't look well, Merlin."

Under normal circumstances, Merlin would have denied it. He would have donned a petulant expression, huffed in annoyance, and told them that he was fine and that they were worrying too much—he wasn't a child, after all. However, two things immediately stopped him. The first was the mere fact that acting like he was fine wouldn't serve any purpose, because he wasn't. He really did feel ill, and claiming otherwise would be a lie and a rather flimsy one at that.

The second thing though was what really stopped him. It was what had him sighing and sinking further against the wall, feeling both guilty and warm at the same time. The moment Elyan had finished talking, all of them had looked at him with widening eyes and unveiled concern. They were all worried about him, and it was understandable in a way given what those words could potentially mean. He felt terrible for making them worry needlessly, but at the same time he couldn't help the flood of warmth that spread through his chest at the realization of just how much they actually cared about him.

It was nice to know—to have proof—that it wasn't just one-sided, that they weren't just friends to him but that he was considered a friend to them as well.

"It's alright, really," he began, knowing that he needed to placate them before they misunderstood the situation. "I'm not dying or anything like that. I just don't feel well is all."

"How so?" asked Gwaine warily, his undivided attention fixed solely on the warlock. Clearly he didn't quite believe him. Understandable, given all he had tried to hide from them.

"My head hurts a bit, I guess, and my stomach…it sort of feels like I'm about to be sick even though I'm not."

Oddly enough, they didn't seem placated in the least. If anything, they looked even more concerned than before.

"I'll be alright," he assured them, attempting to smile even though he really did feel like his stomach wanted nothing more than to empty itself onto the floor. That persistent prodding at the back of his mind wasn't helping any either. "I'm stronger than I look."

Something must have gotten through to them, because it wasn't long before all of them were relaxing, letting the concern fade into the background (he'd be a fool to believe it was gone completely. He wasn't _that_ convincing, after all). Out of all of them, Gwaine was the first to move, pulling away from the wall where he had been sitting next to Merlin but not before reaching over and gently ruffling the warlock's hair.

"Of course you are," he said with a grin plastered on his face, earning him one in return. Sometimes it was just too hard not to smile around Gwaine, no matter how horrible he was feeling. In more than one way, he was grateful for that.

With the conversation over and night rapidly approaching, the knights all got up and got to work setting up for the night. The food was divided out and sorted in order to last them for as long as possible, and they ate it quietly, only once asking Merlin if he was sure he didn't want any (to which the answer was no, but he appreciated the thought nonetheless).

As darkness finally began to fall and they were forced to start burning the oil for warmth and for light, Merlin couldn't help the feeling of dread that started to build. Soon all of them would be preparing to get some sleep, and even though the world around them was quiet with the peace that often came with the night, the voices all around him hadn't diminished. If anything, they were growing even more persistent, pushing against his mental walls, begging to be noticed. He needed to keep his guard up, to keep them away, because if they were to get in, he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to force them out.

He could still feel their pain, their despair, and he didn't want it to become his own. If he wasn't careful, it most likely would.

No matter what, he couldn't fall asleep.

He just couldn't.

* * *

><p>When the entire castle became shrouded in darkness aside from the small fire they had burning between them, the knights all decided to call it a day and turn in for the night. They would start their search again in the morning, and hopefully they'd be able to find something that could provide them with a few more answers. So far they didn't know anything about the vale aside from what Merlin had mentioned. There was just so much they didn't know, and unfortunately they didn't have a lot of time to figure it out. Their food and water wouldn't last forever.<p>

As all of them made themselves as comfortable as they could against the stone floor or propped up against the wall, Arthur kept a part of his attention on Merlin. He was still sitting exactly where he had been, but he had returned to his former position. His legs were pulled up against his chest with his head down, and for all the world it looked like he was asleep.

Before, he most likely would have been fooled into believing that Merlin really was sleeping, but not anymore. He wasn't going to just assume he was, not after what he had learned throughout the course of their trip. Merlin might have been a terrible liar in most situations, but he was very good at pretending, and so this time around, Arthur wasn't going to go to sleep until he was sure that Merlin would be getting some as well.

Not wanting to draw attention to himself, the prince settled down on the floor, using his pack as a pillow and his cloak as a blanket before resolving himself to staying awake. He waited for what felt like forever, watching as the rest of the knights gradually settled and fell asleep before turning his attention back towards Merlin. Sure enough, he was still in the exact same position, and upon closer inspection, he knew there was no way the servant was sleeping. People almost never looked tense when they were asleep, and if that wasn't enough to convince him, the way he was gripping his arms as they circled his legs was enough to show that he was in no way relaxed.

There was no way he was actually sleeping.

Heaving a sigh, the prince rolled onto his side so that he was facing his servant.

"Merlin," he called, his voice just above a whisper. The last thing he wanted was to wake the rest of their group. They all needed as much rest as they could get, because there was no telling what the next few days would bring. They might not get another opportunity like this.

At the sound of his name, Merlin shifted a bit, raising his head just enough so that he could peer at Arthur over the circle of his arms.

"What?" he asked, his voice just as quiet.

"Why are you still awake?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"_Mer_lin…"

When he didn't get a response, just a shrug and a shake of his head, Arthur heaved a rather put upon sigh. No matter what state he was in, dealing with Merlin would probably always prove to be at least a little bit exasperating.

"Look," he began, trying his best to sound reasonable and understanding, "we don't know what we might end up facing come morning. You should at least try to get some sleep."

Wearing an expression that Arthur couldn't quite read, Merlin lowered his gaze.

"I can't sleep here," he whispered, the words almost too quiet to hear, and if not for the silence of the castle, he probably would have missed them.

The prince couldn't fight the amused grin that graced his face.

"Come on, Merlin. You and I both know that we've slept in far worse conditions than this. The floor isn't _that_ hard."

"It's not that," Merlin said, his voice strained, and just like that, the amusement slipped right off his face as he took a good look at his friend. The flickering firelight was casting shadows across his face, but beyond them Arthur could see clear lines of discomfort and even pain. Merlin looked like he was trying his best not to be sick, his face pale and pinched and his eyes half-lidded and dull.

The boy hugged himself tighter as a shiver ran through him.

"I can't sleep here, in this place," he said, his voice shaking. "I can still hear them, at the edge of my mind, and if I drop my guard, they might get in. If I…if I go to sleep, I don't know if I'll be able to wake up again…not as myself."

"Merlin, we don't know how long we'll be here," he told him, his heart clenching at the sight before him and the words spoken. "Sooner or later, you'll have to sleep."

"I know," Merlin said almost desperately, his voice slowly taking on that tormented tone again. "I _know_, Arthur, but I _can't_…"

Merlin buried his head in his arms again, his face pressed against his knees. He hated this, hated not being able to do anything. He hated the fact that he couldn't keep himself together, couldn't stop himself from falling apart. He wasn't supposed to let anyone see this part of him, the part that didn't know what to do, that couldn't fix anything. He was meant to be stronger than this.

How was he supposed to protect them when he could barely get a handle on himself?

"…Alright."

He didn't raise his head, didn't acknowledge Arthur in any way. He just couldn't, not yet. Instead he just listened as the prince shifted, his chainmail brushing against the stone floor as he moved. He thought that was the end of it, that Arthur was going to turn around and go back to sleep, but the rustling didn't stop, and it was soon followed by footsteps before he suddenly became aware of someone standing next to him. He raised his head just in time to see the prince slide down against the wall until he was sitting on the floor.

"What are you doing?" the warlock asked, genuinely confused about this turn of events. He had fully expected Arthur to leave him be and go back to sleep. Instead he was sitting against the wall next to his servant, and it didn't look like he planned on leaving any time soon.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he countered a bit petulantly, and that was more than enough to give the warlock his answer. Apparently Arthur was going to demonstrate once again just how much of a stubborn prat he could be.

Merlin would have been lying though if he said he wasn't just the slightest bit touched by the gesture.

"You don't have to. I'll be alright."

Arthur let out a sigh that was more like an irritated huff, clearly not believing him, before his expression settled into a look that he didn't often see on the prince's face. It was the same look from before when Arthur had apologized to him, hesitant and guilty with an underlying concern.

"Look, Merlin…" he began, his eyes firmly fixed on the floor. "I won't _make_ you tell me, but I want to know what happened."

"What do you mean?"

He didn't like where this was going.

"When I asked you earlier about what she said in the courtyard, you told me that all of it was true."

Merlin swallowed thickly, willing his heart to stop beating so frantically. He _really_ didn't like where this was going.

"I want to know why she said what she did about you."

"I-it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"It's not nothing," Arthur insisted, seeing through the lie far too easily for Merlin's comfort. "Not to me, anyway, because if it really was the truth, then…"

"Arthur, really, it's…it's alright," he said in a rush, trying to stop the conversation before it could continue, because that was a tone he knew all too well and a look that he himself had worn more times than he could count. "None of this is your fault, I'm just…"

"I should have noticed."

Merlin closed his mouth, his eyes widening just a fraction as Arthur finally turned to him, his gaze honest and unashamed.

"I'm sorry I didn't."

There was nothing he could say to that, no words that could ever properly express how much hearing that meant to him. Despite all he was dealing with and all that was to come, that simple admission was enough to quell his fear and ease some of the pain he had been feeling ever since they had entered the vale. This was a part of Arthur that he rarely got to see and that Arthur almost never showed, and the fact that he was showing it now meant a great deal to him.

They shared a very brief smile, one that said more than any words ever could, and Merlin assumed that that would be the end of it, but just as he looked away, Arthur stopped him with another question, one he definitely hadn't been expecting.

"Will you at least tell me why you haven't been sleeping?"

Merlin froze, his eyes widening.

"W-what?" he spluttered, trying to figure out where that question could have come from, because Arthur shouldn't know about that.

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I know that you've been having nightmares, and after I thought about it, I realized that it must have started quite some time ago."

"But—I—how…?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does!"

Merlin quickly clamped his mouth shut and looked to where the rest of their companions were, praying that his outburst hadn't disturbed any of them. He heaved a sigh of relief when none of them so much as twitched.

"No, it really doesn't," Arthur said, and before Merlin could argue the point further, he cut him off with what could only be described as a plea. "I just want you to tell me, Merlin. Something happened, something important, and I wasn't there. I can't change that, but I might be able to help if you tell me what happened."

…It was happening again. He was being given a chance to share a part of his life that only a few others knew about, a piece of himself that was true and honest instead of a carefully constructed lie. Arthur was asking him about his nightmares (he would figure out how the prince had found out about that later), something that stemmed from the events two months ago but that encompassed a great deal of his life in Camelot. Telling him would mean baring a part of his soul and trusting him with it. It would mean telling him the truth about what had happened and trusting him to listen and understand.

He wouldn't exactly be putting his life in his hands (he could easily leave out everything to do with his magic), but he knew that there were far worse things he could lose.

What was he supposed to do?

…_Just tell him._

He tensed up, unable to keep himself from reacting to the words whispering through his head. It was the same voice as before, the same presence, and just like before it was telling him to go ahead, to hand over a part of himself that he normally kept close, hidden away from prying eyes.

_You don't need to worry. It'll be alright. Just have faith. Not everything needs to be hidden._

_Who are you?_ He wasn't sure if he was doing it right, but he tried to reach out, to send his words the same way he was receiving them.

_It matters not who I am. I'm of little consequence._

_Just trust him._

_I promise it'll be alright._

The warlock closed his eyes as the presence receded to the back of his mind, leaving him alone with just his thoughts once more. He leant his head back until it was resting against the wall, letting the cold of the stone seep into him, grounding him as he made up his mind.

He had already trusted Arthur with the truth twice that day.

Surely it couldn't hurt to try it one more time?

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well, that's all for now. I hope it was worth the wait. Next chapter will include quite a bit of plot related stuff as well as the conversation that follows this bit.

As always, thank you so much for reading, and that's for all the reviews. You guys make my week, and I love hearing what you think. I'll definitely try to get around to responding this time. I'm pretty sure I don't have anything planned for this weekend :)

See you next week!


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** So tired...I have to be awake again in less than six hours. It seems I never learn...

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language.  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know. Feel free to let me know if you see something.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin.

I was able to get through all the review responses, I think. I'm sorry if I forgot anyone, but I just want to thank you all for making my week that much more enjoyable. I really do apreciate it :)

So...I may have lied a bit last time. This conversation bit took way longer than I thought it would. It seems I'm rather crap at judging just how long my sections will be. However, this does mean that the next slew of chapters will contain massive amounts of plot. Nevertheless, I hope you all still enjoy this chapter. It probably has more dialogue in it than anything else I've written, and I hope it doesn't disappoint :)

As always, if you see any errors, please point them out :)

Onward!

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><p>CHAPTER 16<p>

_Breathe deep,_ he reminded himself. _Breathe deep and it'll be alright. _He was only telling Arthur about his nightmares, nothing incriminating or life-changing. There was no need to be so afraid. Arthur had come to terms in his own way with what happened to Morgana. It was alright to talk about it. It was over, done with, in the past.

Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he'd find a way to believe it.

"…It started about two months ago, after we reclaimed Camelot," he began, his voice nothing more than a whisper. "I didn't think much of it at first—Gaius said that a few restless nights are common after something like that…but then three nights turned into five, and five into ten, and before I knew it two whole weeks had gone by. When I told Gaius, he started giving me sleeping draughts, but they didn't help much. Sometimes it only made things worse."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a guilty look cross the prince's face, but it was gone not a moment later, and he couldn't help but wonder what Arthur had to feel guilty about. It's not like he had had a hand in any of it.

"At first, all I saw was the siege," Merlin continued. "I would see Morgana and her army taking Camelot and all of us trying to get it back…and every time, something would go wrong. Some part of the plan would fail, and I could only watch as everything fell apart, unable to do anything."

He hugged himself tighter, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground and away from Arthur. Thinking about it now was just as hard as having to relive it, over and over again. More often than not he would wake up believing that what he had seen was true—the nightmares were just that vivid—only to have Gaius (and sometimes Lancelot) rushing in and telling him that it hadn't happened, that everything was fine. Even though it was, that didn't stop his mind from picturing everything that could have possibly gone wrong.

"I've watched everyone die so many times," he said, the words thick as he tried to get them out around the lump forming in his throat. "I've watched everything we've built fall apart, over and over, and every time I'm left with everything I did wrong and what I could have done differently. It's _always_ my fault, all of it, and no matter what I do, I can't stop thinking about it. If I had only tried harder or found another way, then none of it would have happened. I've been given so many choices, and sometimes it feels like I'm _always_ choosing the wrong one, no matter how hard I try to do what's right. I _just_ keep making mistakes. So many people have _died_, and it's all my_ fault_—!"

"Merlin, _stop_!"

The warlock's eyes snapped open (when had he closed them?) as he felt someone prying his hands away from where they had been clenched around his arms (there would be bruises there tomorrow, he was sure). He turned his head in the direction the harsh albeit hushed command had come from and came face to face with a very irritated though undeniably concerned prince. Arthur was glaring at him, but it was thankfully a somewhat different glare from the one he was used to (he was well aware that when faced with something he wasn't entirely sure how to deal with, Arthur often fell back on irritation and anger—thus the glaring—and this time was no different).

Merlin rather frantically tried to figure out what he had just said (his mouth had been perfectly content to just keep running) and instantly regretted ever beginning this conversation. He had said too much, had allowed too many of his thoughts to slip out, and there was no way to take them back. Even though he wanted to trust Arthur, to be able to tell him the truth, there were some things he didn't want anyone to know, parts of himself that not even Gaius was aware of. He had so many regrets, had made so many mistakes, and even though he truly believed he had done the right things for Arthur and for Camelot, that didn't mean he wasn't ashamed of some of the actions he had been forced to take (and there was always a choice, always another option, but it was usually only in hindsight that he ever saw the other paths he could have taken).

He couldn't change the past, but that didn't stop him from thinking about it. In the end, he had no right to believe that his way had been the only just one, the right path, because hadn't they all believed that? Every person who had ever sought revenge, who had ever set out to change things, who had ever killed in another's name or for the sake of something they had placed their faith in…hadn't they _all_ believed that they were right?

No matter what, he couldn't let himself succumb to that mentality. Self righteousness was a sin just as deadly as any and a trap he couldn't let himself fall into. He couldn't help but wonder though if that was one battle that was truly lost before ever having begun.

He was only human, after all.

"_Mer_lin."

The warlock quickly pulled himself out of his thoughts, realizing a bit too late that he had spent all that time just staring at Arthur (or in his general direction, at least) without saying or doing anything. Judging by the way Arthur had shook him a bit with that last utterance of his name, it was likely that the prince had been trying to get his attention for quite a while but to no avail. He became painfully aware that Arthur's hands were still holding onto him, wrapped around his arms to keep his own hands from potentially doing any more harm to himself.

The glare that had once been on the prince's face had softened slightly into something that was no longer angry. That piercing gaze was narrowed and determined, his mouth set in a firm line.

"Merlin, listen to me," he began, demanding his attention and only continuing once he was certain he had it. The words were quiet but resolute—the voice of a man who believed with absolute certainty that what he was saying was true. "You're not to blame. You're _not_. What happened with Morgana wasn't your fault—I don't know where you got an idea like that, but it wasn't. You're just one servant, Merlin. There was nothing you did and nothing you could have done. _None_ of it was your fault, so stop trying to take responsibility for it. There wasn't anything you could do."

_No._ There were _hundreds_ of things he could have done differently. There had been so many opportunities to change things. He could have prevented it, all of it. He could have stopped her. He could have _saved_ her.

If only he had talked to Mogana, had tried harder to make her understand. If only he had shown her that she wasn't alone, that there were others like her, that if she could just wait and hold on that things would get better, that he and Arthur would bring about a future filled with peace and light. If only he could have shown her that her family and friends wouldn't reject her because of her magic, that they loved her too much to let something like that change their minds.

One of his greatest regrets was that when given the chance to help her, to teach her, he had instead left her alone. He had made her believe that she was on her own, and that fear and loneliness had festered until it turned into hatred and bitterness. If she had had someone to turn to, to confide in, then maybe she never would have placed her faith in Morgause. Maybe she would have had the strength and the patience to wait and believe.

Of course, it was always possible that things would have played out the same way anyway, but it didn't change the fact that he hadn't even tried. He didn't talk to her, didn't help her, didn't try to understand, and after she had come back, he had made a whole new slew of mistakes. He should have stopped her. So many people had died.

_You're wrong, Arthur. It is my fault._

It wasn't until the prince's expression twisted into something much like frustration that Merlin realized he must have said that last bit out loud. Arthur looked like he wanted to shake him or perhaps smack him upside the head. Thankfully he only resorted to the former.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Arthur asked, indignant and fed up. "I don't understand. There was nothing you could do! _Why_ are you acting so _guilty_ about this?"

With one final shake from the prince, something happened that Arthur wasn't likely to forget anytime soon, if ever. Merlin had looked like he was on the verge of _something_ for a long time, a lot longer than just the last two months, but he could honestly say that he hadn't been expecting anything like this.

For just one moment, Merlin completely broke.

"Because _I knew!_" he practically shouted, his control slipping as he let that one simple truth break free, and the moment he realized what he had admitted to, his eyes grew wide and he stared at Arthur with what could only be described as fear.

With eyes equally wide and shocked, the prince very slowly pulled away, releasing Merlin's arms as he fell back against the wall though he never looked away from his servant. However, Merlin very quickly wrapped his arms back around his legs and bowed his head, taking a deep, shuddering breath that jarred his whole body.

For a moment neither one of them said anything, too afraid to break the stillness that had settled around them, but Arthur knew that if anything was going to happen, he would have to be the one to press forward. Merlin had made it clear more than once that he didn't want to talk about any of this, but it had to be done. Things couldn't stay the way they were.

"What do you mean?" he asked quietly, carefully, feeling more than a little confused. He watched and waited patiently as Merlin took another deep breath before slowly raising his head. The fear from before was entirely gone, replaced with a look of weary resignation. Ever since they had started this conversation, Merlin had been nervous and more than a little distraught, but all of that seemingly vanished as he gave in and resigned himself to the situation. His head fell back until it hit the wall, a sigh escaping him as he finally relaxed a bit.

"I knew," he began in a voice much softer and much more controlled than before, "about Morgana."

For a moment Arthur could only gape, and when he found his voice again, it was near breathless.

"What…?"

"I knew that she was betraying us…and that she had magic."

"You…you _knew_? How? Since _when_?"

"Ever since we found her after Morgause had taken her. She was the one who summoned the army of the dead when Cenred attacked…but I've actually known about her magic for far longer than that."

Arthur couldn't believe it. All that time, and Merlin had known. He had known that Morgana was a traitor and a sorceress, and he had never told anyone. He hadn't said anything about it!

"Why didn't you _say_ something?" he demanded, incredulous but soft enough to hopefully not wake the knights—how they could still be sleeping was nothing short of a mystery given how many times the two of them had forgotten to keep their voices down.

Merlin glanced over at him, and for the first time since they set foot inside the vale, there was a spark of insolence in his eyes and perhaps a bit of annoyance as well. A small part of him couldn't help but feel relieved upon seeing such a familiar sight, a part of the old Merlin, his cheeky servant, instead of the sad, despondent shadow that he had been turned into.

"And what was I supposed to say?" he asked. "That Morgana was an evil sorceress and that she was planning to kill you, your father, and then take over Camelot?"

The prince couldn't quite come up with a response to that, and in a much softer, melancholy tone, Merlin asked him one of the most important questions that he probably ever would.

"Would you have believed me if I had?"

Arthur didn't have an answer to that one either, not one that he could say, anyway, because deep down he knew what he would have done. He knew how he would have reacted if Merlin had tried to tell him about Morgana. It wasn't a pleasant thought, and he would have ended up regretting it a hundred times over, because he knew that he wouldn't have believed Merlin. Morgana had been like a sister to him, and for anyone to accuse her of treason without proof would have earned them a fate far worse than a few hours in the stocks.

Apparently his silence was enough of an answer for Merlin. He gave the prince a sad, knowing smile.

"I'm just a servant, Arthur. I had no proof, and my word doesn't count for anything. No one would have believed me, not when it was her word against mine. Trying to accuse her would have probably gotten me killed."

How he wished he could tell him that he was wrong, that it wouldn't have come to that, but Arthur knew his father all too well. He never would have allowed Merlin to get away with such an accusation, and Morgana would have likely found a way to turn the situation around in order to get Merlin killed. She would have demanded his execution.

It was actually kind of surprising that she never had. Unless, of course, she hadn't been aware that he knew.

"…Did Morgana know," he began, "that you knew about her?"

"Yes. She found out about the same time as I did. It was right before the first siege when I disappeared for two days."

Arthur could remember that time all too well.

"_What if I was dying?"_

"_I wouldn't be complaining! But you're not, so where have you been?"_

"_I was dying."_

Perhaps there had been some truth to that after all.

"I followed her into the Darkling woods where she was meeting with Morgause, but she knew I was there. I tried to run, but they caught me and decided to leave me chained up in the forest. Unfortunately for them, I'm not that easy to get rid of."

There was just the lightest touch of amusement laced into those words, and Arthur knew that he was trying to lighten the mood a bit, to make it seem less life-threatening and terrifying than it obviously had been, but all Arthur could think of was how he had reacted to Merlin's disappearance. He had automatically assumed that his servant had just decided to skip work, to go and laze about somewhere. He had never even entertained the idea that something was wrong, that Merlin could be in trouble.

How many more of his disappearances had coincided with similar situations?

He didn't want to think about it. It wouldn't do him any good, because he couldn't change anything. All that mattered was that Merlin was still alive. No matter what trouble he may have fallen into, he had managed to pull himself out of it. However, he was definitely going to be paying more attention in the future. He wasn't about to let something like that happen to him again.

With a great deal of effort, he managed to push back those thoughts and instead bring his attention back to the conversation at hand. He wanted to know more about what had happened with Morgana. If she had been a traitor for as long as Merlin said, then there must have been other times where she had tried to get him and his father killed, where she had tried to take Camelot for herself.

"…How many times did she try to get me killed?" he asked hesitantly, not entirely sure if he wanted to know the answer but too curious not to ask. It earned him a quick glance from his servant, and for a moment he wasn't sure if Merlin would answer, but in the end he merely shrugged and shook his head.

"I don't know," he said. "I didn't keep count. She mostly went after your father."

"But you stopped her." It should have been a question. Before this quest it would have been, but not anymore. As hard as it was to believe, he knew it to be true. Somehow, someway, Merlin had managed to stop her.

"I did what I could. I really just got lucky most of the time."

It was a modest answer, but he really hadn't expected anything less. Despite all the times he must have helped both him and his father, Merlin had never once sought any sort of praise or recognition. It didn't even matter that he hadn't been able to due to the delicate situation with Morgana, because in the end, when everything was said and done, Merlin still hadn't said anything. Even after her true nature had been revealed, he hadn't intended to tell anyone about what he had done. Just how many times _had_ he interfered, and if she had known, then why hadn't Morgana tried to do anything about it?

Then again, maybe she had.

"And how many times did she try to get _you_ killed?"

Another small smile, tainted with amusement and a bit of irony.

"Not as many as she probably should have."

It was said in jest, but the thought alone was enough to twist his stomach into knots and make his heart ache.

"…I'm sorry."

The words slipped out before he could do anything about it, but not even for a moment did he regret them. It was only now starting to dawn on him just how much he needed to make up for. He had been so blind to everything. Morgana had spent months upon months trying to kill him and his father, and all the while Merlin had been the only one standing in her way. He had been forced to face her alone, to stand against her when she had had not only her position in the castle but her magic to use against him. The two of them had been waging a silent war while the rest of them had wandered around in their ignorance, completely unaware of it all.

Merlin was always there for him, even when he didn't want him to be, and yet it seemed that during all the most important times, he had never been there for Merlin. He hadn't been able to see Morgana for what she was and had left Merlin completely on his own to deal with her, fighting against odds that were greatly stacked in her favor. He had managed, somehow, but that knowledge wasn't anywhere near enough to lessen the guilt. That kind of responsibility should have never been placed on his shoulders.

It hurt about a hundred times more when Merlin gave him a baffled stare and then proved that he really was the world's biggest, most selfless idiot.

"What for?"

_Everything. Every time I wasn't there. Every time you had to risk your life when it wasn't your duty to do so._

"I'm sorry you had to face her on your own," he said, because he couldn't get his mouth to form the other words, and because in the end nothing he could say would ever be adequate. "It must have been hard, and I imagine the rest of us didn't make it any easier."

"It's alright. I've gotten used to it."

At any other time, he might have believed that last statement to be just another attempt at humor, but he knew it wasn't, because Merlin immediately fell quiet and looked away again. He lowered his head and began to play absentmindedly with his sleeves, a sure sign that he was at least a little nervous. He probably hadn't meant to let that last bit slip out, but nevertheless he had, and it made Arthur wonder just how many times Merlin had done something for his sake without ever saying anything. How many times had Merlin gone off without him during a dangerous situation only for everything to somehow turn out alright?

The most recent one he could recall would be the immortal army. When they had been preparing to retake Camelot, Merlin had volunteered himself to go with Lancelot to take out the warning bell…but they had failed.

They had _failed_, and yet the two of them had come back with only minor injuries after the immortal army had been destroyed. Merlin had gone off again, away from him and out of sight, and everything had turned out fine.

Why? How? There had to be more to it. Seeing as how he hadn't taken out the bell, then what exactly _had_ he done?

"Merlin," he began gravely, making sure he had his attention before continuing, "I want you to swear to me that you'll tell me the truth."

"…About what?"

"Just promise me."

When those blue eyes sought his out, filled with wariness and just a bit of fear, he honestly believed that Merlin wouldn't do it or that he would just lie, but whatever it was he was looking for in Arthur's gaze he must have found it, because Arthur couldn't detect a shred of dishonesty in his response.

"Alright. I swear."

Heaving a mental sigh of relief, the prince went ahead with his question, and he immediately knew he had been right to get Merlin's word first, because with each word he spoke, the servant began to look more and more uncomfortable.

"When we retook Camelot, you and Lancelot were supposed to take care of the warning bell. It's obvious you didn't since they managed to set it off, but I'm almost certain that you never went after it in the first place. If that's the case, then where were you? What were you doing?"

"I…well…"

"You gave me your _word_, Merlin."

When Merlin didn't say anything, Arthur resolved himself to wait. Getting angry or impatient wouldn't help any. If he wanted the truth, he would have to let Merlin answer without trying to force him to, and sure enough, after just a few moments of tense silence, Merlin finally seemed to find the courage and the words to answer.

"I…we…" He paused, took a deep breath, and let the rest of the words come out in a rush. "We went after the cup of life."

…Arthur was fairly certain that he had never been left at such a loss so many times in one day before.

"You…you _what_?" he asked so quietly that he wasn't even sure if Merlin had heard him, but it seemed that now that the truth was out in the open, his servant no longer felt the need to hold back, and regardless of whether he had heard Arthur or not, he kept talking.

"I-I had heard about the cup of life before, and so I asked Gaius about it. He told me a story about another immortal army, a long time ago, and when I asked how they were defeated, he told me that the only way was to empty the cup of the blood that was in it. I knew I had to do something. It was my fault that Morgana got as far as she did—I should have tried harder to stop her—and so I had planned on slipping away during the attack and finding the cup myself, but Lancelot found out and insisted on coming with me. We volunteered to go after the warning bell so that no one would ask questions about us disappearing. I'm sorry we lied to you."

"But—you—how? How did you even manage to reach it? It would have been heavily guarded."

"It was, but we managed. Even when Morgause showed up, we were able to distract her long enough to get to the cup. It only needed to be knocked over, and when it was, all the soldiers just sort of blew up."

"But what about Morgause? She was still there."

"We…during all the chaos, we managed to knock her out. She hit her head pretty hard, and when Morgana came in, she used her magic and caused the room to collapse. I suppose she also must have used it to get herself and Morgause out of Camelot before the ceiling fell."

"I…You…"

He wasn't sure what to say. So many words were buzzing through his head, so many questions and reprimands, because what Merlin had done had been so utterly foolish and bloody _suicidal,_ yet he had _still_ managed to walk away unscathed, and he…

He had saved them, all of them. If he hadn't knocked over the cup of life, they all would have fallen to Morgana's army, and Camelot would have been doomed to a lifetime of despair and tragedy. Him, his father, the knights, the people…they all owed their lives to Merlin.

What words could he possibly say in the face of such an incredible act of bravery?

"You complete _idiot_!"

…Well, apparently _that_ was the answer. Somehow he got the feeling most people would disagree. Strangely enough, it had sounded better in his head.

"W-what?"

"_You_…I don't even—_how_ could you be that _stupid_?"

If the knights were still asleep after this, he would count it as a miracle.

"Why didn't you _say_ anything, you _idiot_! What were you _thinking_?"

"Arthur…"

"You should have _said_ something! You didn't have to go alone!"

"I _wasn't_ alone. Lancelot—"

"I would have gone _with _you!"

"_No_."

One word, spoken with all the authority and all the power of an unyielding storm, firm and absolute, and in its wake Arthur was completely silenced. All his anger—born from concern and fear and something else that he wasn't even sure there was a word for—vanished as he met the determined, foolhardy, and wise gaze of his servant.

"You're too important, Arthur. You're needed. I wasn't about to risk your life like that."

"Yet it was perfectly fine to risk your own and Lancelot's?"

"He asked to come with me. I had planned on going alone."

"But _why_?"

"I didn't want anyone to get hurt. So many people had died. I couldn't bear the thought of losing anyone else."

It hit him rather suddenly exactly what it was that Merlin was trying to say. He wouldn't come out and say the actual words, but it was implied, and the very thought was enough to make him feel like someone was squeezing his heart and pushing down against his chest until he could barely breath.

Merlin had planned on going alone because he hadn't been sure if he'd be coming back. He had gone into a hopeless battle with only the slightest chance of success, and he had done so knowing full well that he probably wouldn't make it out alive. He went alone because he hadn't wanted to get anyone else killed on his risky, suicidal mission.

Where did that kind of resolve come from?

He didn't have an answer. There probably wasn't one.

"I still wish you would have told me."

If Merlin had hidden something like this from him, then how many other secrets did he have?

"I couldn't."

"You could have. I suppose I understand why you didn't say anything at the time, but you could have told me afterwards. You _should_ have told me."

"Why? It wouldn't have changed anything…"

"Merlin, _why_ didn't you tell me?"

"Because it doesn't matter."

"You're _wrong_."

Through their whole exchange, Merlin had been looking away again, his head bowed, but those two words were enough to stop his nervous fidgeting and to make him turn his head. Arthur was looking at him with a stare so earnest and determined that he wasn't entirely sure what to do other than look back. There was something there he wasn't used to, a look that was rarely directed at him but one he noticed every once in a while from Gaius or Lancelot. It was something a lot like pride and respect but so much softer, fonder.

Admiration… That was the word.

"It matters to me."

It seemed that even in a hopeless situation, when the odds weren't in their favor and the very land itself was playing against them, Merlin could still find a reason to keep going. Even without knowing it, Arthur always seemed to find a way to inspire him. With just four words, pure and honest, the warlock found himself feeling warmer and lighter than he had in a long time, and he couldn't help but smile at Camelot's future king. The prince had come such a long way from the arrogant, selfish prat he had once been (though he was still a prat more often than not).

He really would be a great king someday.

"…Merlin."

The warlock pulled himself away from his thoughts for a moment and gave Arthur his complete attention. The prince was looking serious again, which didn't bode particularly well.

"What?"

"If something like that ever happens again, I want you to tell me."

"Arthur…"

"I won't ask for your word. I know that there will probably be times where you can't tell me, like with Morgana, but I just want you to know that you _can_ talk to me. I'll listen."

There was so much more he wanted to say, but Arthur kept those things to himself, locked away safe and sound until he could say them without having to battle his pride.

_I owe you my life, Merlin. We all do. I don't know what I ever did to deserve a friend like you, but I'm glad you're here._

He wasn't ready yet, but someday…

"…And Merlin?"

"Hmm?"

Someday, he'd be able to say them.

"…Thank you."

When a smile softer and brighter than any he had seen in a long time spread across Merlin's face, he couldn't help but wonder if he already had.

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><p><strong>AN:** Look, _look_, no cliffhanger! Ha! I knew I could do it :) I actually ended a chapter nicely for once, but there you have it. Ever since I had decided on how I wanted to go about this fic, I really wanted to write this part. I've always wanted Arthur to find out about the whole thing with Morgana. Also, this is probably as much as I'm going to have Merlin reveal. I have no intention of doing a magic reveal, it would change the dynamic I'm going for (plus my last two fics both dealt with magic reveals, as do over half of my other ideas).

So, like I said earlier, from here on there shall be lots of plot, but I assure you that this section is equally important. You'll understand why later :)

Anyway, thank you again for reading! I hope you're all enjoying it.

Until next week!


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** It's late...again. But at least I don't have to be to work in the morning :) Anyway, this chapter is quite a bit longer than the others. I had 8 pages written and was going to call it good, but it wasn't where I wanted to end, so I added three more. Lots more conversations as well as some confusing plot pieces. The plot will likely start coming really fast in the next few chapters. I'm rather excited :)

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language. Better safe than sorry, ne?  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin.

I'm sorry that I wasn't able to get to all the review responses this time around. I ran out of time again. I'm going to try my best to do the ones for this week though. If all goes well, I should be able to manage. I'll have all day Sunday, after all :)

This only got proofread once, and it was done in parts, so if there are any mistakes, please let me know and I shall fix them :)

It feels like there was more I wanted to say, but I can't seem to remember, so onward!

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 17<p>

It had been somewhere around the middle of the night or a few hours after when Arthur finally fell asleep, still sitting against the wall next to Merlin. Their conversation had lulled into a comfortable silence, one that the warlock had been more than grateful for even though he had to admit that he had enjoyed Arthur's company. He hadn't been expecting the prince to stay up with him, and although he was once again on his own, he was relieved that Arthur was actually getting some sleep. They had a long day ahead of them, and if they were going to make any progress, he would need to be well rested.

It was just a shame that Merlin couldn't do the same. There was no way he was going to fall asleep. Instead he sat there and tried to focus on a way to push the voices out of his head, to keep them at bay. He tried to distract himself with whatever he could, anything to get his attention away from the hundreds of souls that were vying for it. If he could keep his mind focused and pay them no heed, then maybe their influence would diminish. Maybe if he pretended they weren't there, he'd be able to ignore them. It was certainly worth a shot.

In the end he wasn't entirely sure how he had managed it, but when a dull light slowly began to blanket the room, he knew that morning was approaching and that somehow he had managed to stay up through the night. Even though he was exhausted, he couldn't help but feel satisfied. It was a small accomplishment and one that wasn't likely to last (he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to make it through another night), but he was proud of himself nonetheless. He couldn't afford to let the voices in, to let go, not when there were people counting on him (even if most of them didn't really know it).

Even with the approaching morn, the knights were still all fast asleep, and Merlin had no intention of waking them yet. Instead he slowly got to his feet, stretching out all his stiff muscles that were protesting to the new position before slowly making his way across the room, being as quiet as he could. The warlock walked over to the large window and looked out across what he could see of the vale. Even in the morning light, it looked no different. The world was still washed out and gray, blanketed by the mist that swirled in the distance and covered the sky.

Not for the first time, he tried to figure out what kind of spell it could be. It was magic, pure and simple, but what he couldn't work out was why and how. Why cast a spell like that? Why shroud the area in mist, and why make it so that no one could ever leave the vale? There had to be a reason, because the spell was no accident. Whoever had cast it had known what they were doing, and it was clear that whatever the reason behind it was, they hadn't intended for the spell to last indefinitely. The staff in the courtyard was proof enough of that.

But if someone had planned for the spell to end…then why hadn't it? The mist had been around for at least a hundred years, probably more. Clearly someone had wanted it to come to an end, but if so, then _why_ make it so complicated? There was just so much he didn't understand, so many pieces that didn't add up. There was the mist, the staff, the ruined castle, and there was also that door they had found, the one thing that was still in perfect condition when everything else had been worn away. Surely it was of some importance seeing as how they hadn't been able to open it and Eiwyn had seemed rather insistent that they never would.

Eiwyn…she was another piece he didn't understand. Just what was she? She wasn't human, at least not anymore, but she also wasn't a spirit or a ghost either. She had a physical body of some kind, but she was able to move freely within the vale, able to disappear and reappear instantly without the aid of any sort of magic. Given the state of the vale, it was obvious that she didn't need any sustenance to survive, but she was still clearly alive in some way.

It just didn't make sense.

With a deep sigh, Merlin braced his arms against the window sill and stuck his head out the window. He looked around at the ruined walls and tried to picture them the way they had once been. He had no doubt the castle had been beautiful at one point in time, proud and majestic and brimming with life.

Just what had happened to turn it into _this_?

As his eyes strayed from place to place, he eventually found himself looking down, and when he realized just what was below him, his breath caught as he completely froze.

Standing there, still as the stone around her, was Eiwyn.

Merlin's first instinct was to pull away, to get as far from the window and from her as he could, but something kept him fixed there, watching her curiously as she just stood there, unmoving, her head tilted towards the sky. It almost looked like she was waiting for something, her gaze fixed and unwavering.

When she had left them, she had said that she had no intention of seeking them out, that they wouldn't be seeing her again. He wasn't sure if he should be grateful for that or not, because despite all the harm she was capable of, she was still their only clue, the only one who could explain what was going on. She had only told them a bit of the story, but there was obviously more, and if they couldn't get it from her, then who else could they go to?

The warlock was suddenly pulled from his thoughts when he caught sight of movement and found that Eiwyn was no longer standing in the field but making her way back towards the castle. Losing sight of her, he quickly went over to another window, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl before she vanished. Strangely enough, he was able to spot her walking leisurely through the ruins, making her way to a spot not too far off. He couldn't help but wonder why she didn't just disappear and reappear when she was clearly capable of doing so, but he wasn't about to dwell on it, because the place she was heading for was of far more interest.

She was going to the courtyard.

Merlin stepped away from the window and glanced across the room to where the knights were all resting. It was still early in the morning, and they would likely be asleep for at least another hour. He spent a brief moment debating on whether to wake them but quickly decided that it would take too long. If he wanted to follow Eiwyn, he would have to go alone, and even though a large part of him was terrified and kept reminding him of what had happened, his curiosity got the better of him.

With one final glance at his companions, he turned away and quickly left the room, all the while praying that they wouldn't wake up before he got back (because after what he and Arthur had talked about, the prince would definitely yell at him if he woke up and Merlin wasn't there). He made sure to take note of his surroundings as he went, paying attention to every corridor and every corner. He had gotten a decent feel for the castle the previous day, but a lot of it looked the same, so he needed to be careful. He had no desire to end up getting lost.

Eventually he found himself approaching a place he remembered quite well, and he immediately slowed his pace until his footsteps fell silent. Very slowly he approached the opening, pressing himself against the wall and peering out carefully into the small courtyard. Sure enough, standing before the monument and the staff suspended at its center was Eiwyn. She had her back to him so he couldn't see her face, and just like before she stood as still as a statue. The whole world was silent around her, and it took all of his concentration to keep from making a sound. He couldn't even breathe too deeply or too suddenly for fear of disrupting the quiet. If he made even the smallest noise, she would hear it, and he couldn't afford to let that happen. He didn't want to know what she would do to him if she found him there. Just the thought had him wishing that his body would simply turn away and run, but he couldn't give in. He needed to find out what was happening. He needed answers, and that was enough to keep him still as he watched her, waiting patiently for something to happen.

For the longest time, she didn't move. She just stood there, staring at the staff. He wished he could see her expression, but the angle was wrong and he couldn't risk moving. Her posture gave absolutely nothing away, so he didn't have the slightest idea of what she might possibly be thinking. He kept watching though, and eventually his patience was rewarded. Very slowly she took a few steps forward until she was past the pillars and within reach of the staff. She raised her arm carefully, almost hesitantly, and stretched her pale hand towards the elegantly carved wood, but at the last moment she curled her fingers and drew her arm away.

From the moment he had first laid eyes upon her, he had known that despite her appearance there was a great power about her, something that told him she wasn't the delicate woman she appeared to be, but in that moment she looked in every way vulnerable. With her arm cradled against her chest and her head bowed, she didn't look anything but human.

"Rhoshad…"

It was whispered so softly, so faintly, that if it hadn't been for the absolute silence of the vale, he never would have heard her.

"What should I do?"

Merlin watched as she tried to reach out one last time before her arm fell to her side and the frail image before him faded, replaced with the haunting, emotionless visage he had become acquainted with. The moment of vulnerability vanished just as quickly as it had come, and she once more tilted her head towards the sky.

"I know," she whispered. "I _know_, but it doesn't matter. I won't let it happen. I _can't_."

_Who is she talking to?_ He couldn't see anyone. He knew there was no one there, and she obviously wasn't addressing him, so then who was she speaking to? One of the souls, perhaps?

Either way, he figured it was time for him to leave. Every moment he spent there was one more where he might get caught, and he had already pushed his luck far enough. As soundlessly as he could, he moved away from the wall and disappeared down the corridor, and once he was far enough away, he picked up his pace and began heading for the tower. Though the light was still muted, it was obviously morning, and he needed to hurry if he wanted to make it back before the others awoke.

He was willing to face a great many things, but at the moment a group of furious, overprotective knights wasn't one of them.

* * *

><p>As it turned out, luck really wasn't on his side. He wasn't sure why he had been expecting anything different.<p>

About halfway up the stairs in the tower, he was able to make out a few voices as well as the sound of very loud and somewhat hurried footsteps. It was only a moment later that one set began to get louder and he found himself only just managing to avoid being barreled over by a very frantic looking prince.

"Merlin!" he shouted, his expression morphing from surprise to relief and then into frustration and anger. It happened so fast that Merlin found himself at a bit of a loss as to how to respond, but Arthur didn't even give him a chance to. "Where the hell _were_ you?"

"I…" he began only to get cut off as the prince grabbed hold of his tunic and started dragging him up the stairs. He tried to protest and to even pull away, but Arthur wasn't having any of it and just kept pulling him up the stairs. When they reached the room where the other knights were, Merlin thought that maybe he'd be able to get one of them to help him out, but one look at their faces and he knew it wouldn't be happening. Though they all appeared to be relieved to see him, they also looked just the slightest bit mad.

Once he was in the room, Arthur finally released him only to pin him with a sharp glare (but beneath the anger, he was almost certain he could see something a lot like worry and perhaps even a bit of fear).

"What is _wrong_ with you?" he yelled, and the warlock flinched back at the sheer intensity behind those words. "You can't just wander off like that!"

Merlin couldn't help but scowl at the prince, feeling rather indignant. It's not like he was a child that needed to be looked after. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Surely Arthur had to know that by now given what they had talked about not even ten hours ago.

"It's not like anything happened," he countered. "I _can_ look after myself, you know."

"Where were you?" the prince demanded, not even bothering to comment on what the warlock had said. Once again Merlin attempted to gain an ally amongst the knights standing only a few paces behind their prince, but not a one of them seemed to have any intention of defending him from this. They were all just watching with expressions that Merlin couldn't quite read. However, it was obvious that for once they believed that Arthur had every right to be yelling at him. Not even _Gwaine_ was trying to stop him, and he and Arthur had been a bit off ever since they had left the tavern.

Realizing that he was alone in this, Merlin very quickly went through his options, because he really didn't like that question. Not answering wasn't an option at all, because Arthur would just get angrier and would keep asking until he got what he wanted. Therefore his only choices were to lie or tell the truth, and he knew exactly where the truth would get him.

"I…I just went for a walk," he said, trying his best to make it sound believable, and in most cases it might have worked…except that Arthur was now aware that he often kept things from him, and the prince had clearly been watching for even the slightest sign of a lie. With such a weak explanation, it was no wonder he managed to catch it easily.

"_Mer_lin…" he practically growled, clearly losing his patience, and when the warlock tried to speak again, to put together a different story, Arthur cut him off before he could even begin. "I want the _truth_, Merlin."

The warlock couldn't help but sigh.

"Why bother when you're just going to yell at me anyway," he muttered, only for Arthur to narrow his eyes even further as he began tapping his foot out of both irritation and impatience. Merlin knew he was pushing his luck, and he also knew that he was out of options (he hadn't had that many to begin with, because "run away" didn't count as a choice).

If he was going to be in trouble regardless of what he said, then he may as well tell the truth.

"I saw Eiwyn," he said, startling them all a bit with the bluntness of his answer. "She was outside, and I thought that maybe if I followed her, I could find out more about the vale, but I didn't learn anything."

Arthur closed his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose before rubbing at the spot between his eyes. Merlin wondered if maybe the prince was developing a headache.

In actuality, Arthur was doing everything he could to keep from reaching over and shaking his servant senseless (or maybe just bashing some sense into him. Either way, really, it made little difference). How was it possible for one person to be so completely foolish? Everyone—every living _thing_ was born with at least some sense of self preservation, but sometimes he wondered if Merlin had somehow missed out on that important bit of instinct. Hell, there were _plants_ that were better at preserving their own lives than Merlin. How could anyone possibly be that careless?

"Why didn't you wake us?" he asked, trying to maintain his control and not simply yell at the idiot. He was still seething, but he was doing his best to stay calm and to try and understand why Merlin had felt the need to go alone (again).

"It would have taken too long," he said as if he were only stating the obvious, and even though it was probably true, that didn't stop Arthur from having to grit his teeth against a whole slew of insults and reprimands.

As much as he tried to deny it, he knew that he wasn't really _angry_ with Merlin—frustrated, yes, but not angry—but that was the only way he knew how to deal with what he was feeling. It was the only way he could deal with the fear that he had felt when Elyan had shaken him awake and informed him that Merlin was gone. It was the only way he could mask the sheer desperation and panic he had succumbed to while they were searching for him, and it was the only thing he knew that would be able to hide the overwhelming concern that was still there, hiding just below the surface.

Anger was just easier to express and easier to deal with, and often enough, it was more than capable of getting his point across.

Somehow though, he got the feeling that Merlin was able to see right through it, because while his servant rarely backed down when faced with his ire, he often relented when he believed he had caused someone unnecessary trouble.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, sincerely, and Arthur felt a great deal of his frustration melt away. He heaved a deep sigh and ran a hand through his slightly disheveled hair.

"Alright, just…don't go off on your own again." And simply because this was _Merlin_, he couldn't help but add, "We can't afford to waste time looking for you if you get lost."

He turned around and began to make his way back towards their supplies but not before catching the slightest glimpse of a cheeky grin forming on Merlin's face. Strangely enough, he felt rather accomplished.

With the chaos that had occurred due to their missing friend now over, they all quietly went about their morning routines to prepare for the day ahead. He watched from his place leaning against one of the pillars as Gwaine tried to coax Merlin into eating something, and although the boy clearly looked better than he had the day before (despite the obvious exhaustion from another night of no sleep), he was still rather pale. However, if Merlin still had the audacity to be his usual insolent self, then that was already a huge improvement. Hopefully it was a sign that things were going to get better.

Not too far away from the two, Elyan was packing up some of their supplies and counting out the rest of their rations. He needed to remember later to ask just how much they had left and how long they'd be able to make it last. They needed to plan for the worst even though he kept hoping that it wouldn't come to that. He wasn't about to let all of them die in such a dreary, desolate place. Somehow they would find a way out, no matter what it took.

Eventually his attention drifted towards the last member of their group. Lancelot was standing off to the side, busying himself with polishing his sword while he waited for the rest of them to finish preparing. The prince pushed away from his pillar and began to make his way over, glad that the knight was alone because he didn't really want an audience at the moment. There was something he needed to do, and it would be easier to do it without the rest of them watching.

"Lancelot."

The knight stopped what he was doing and looked up, giving the prince his full attention and waiting patiently for whatever it was he wanted to say. Arthur couldn't help but feel just the slightest bit anxious, but at the same time he knew this needed to be done.

"I just…I wanted to thank you," he said, earning him a curious look though one that was far less confused than he had expected it to be.

"For what, sire?"

"For the part you played in reclaiming Camelot." It looked like Lancelot was about to protest or deny that he had done anything praise-worthy, so Arthur quickly cut him off. "Merlin told me about what happened with the immortal army and with the cup of life. I know what you did, and I'd like to thank you for it."

"There's no need," Lancelot assured him with a small smile. "I only did what I felt was right. I _am_ sorry about the warning bell, but Merlin didn't want you to know about the cup, and I couldn't let him go alone."

Arthur couldn't help but smile back, relieved by the knowledge that even if he couldn't be there when Merlin needed help, at least someone would be.

"I'm grateful for that."

"…I will always do what I can for him. He's the bravest man I know and by far the most selfless. More than once, Merlin has been able to give me hope when I believed there to be none, and if all I can do in return is protect him, then that's what I'll do."

There was such conviction, such determination and sincerity in those words that Arthur found himself momentarily lost for a response. Before, he probably would have tried to make light of things, to joke around a bit, because it was Merlin they were talking about, after all, but after last night, he couldn't find it in him to be anything other than grateful.

Because Merlin _was_ brave and he _was_ selfless, and if it hadn't been for Lancelot, there was a good chance that his recklessness would have gotten him killed…and that wasn't a reality that Arthur wanted to face.

"Thank you," he said, because there really wasn't anything else he _could_ say. Nothing else was adequate enough to express his gratitude.

Lancelot merely nodded in acknowledgement before his gaze wandered to a point just beyond Arthur's shoulder, and the prince quickly turned to see what he was looking at. Behind him, Gwaine and Elyan were making their way over, leaving Merlin amidst their supplies with a water skin and what appeared to be some dried berries (a gift from the palace kitchens before they had set off). Apparently Gwaine had succeeded in getting Merlin to at least make an attempt at eating.

When the knights were finally all standing around their prince, Arthur crossed his arms and took up a guarded posture, ready to defend himself if need be (he and Gwaine really hadn't been getting along well as of late, though he could admit that that was partially his fault). When no words were forthcoming, the prince quirked an eyebrow, curious and wary of whatever it was they had to say.

"Yes?" he prompted, trying to be patient but falling more than a little short. He watched as all three knights exchanged looks, as if they were having some kind of silent conversation, before Gwaine finally heaved a sigh and nominated himself as their representative.

"We have," he began, "a bit of a confession to make."

"…What kind of confession?"

"You see, we decided it would probably be better to tell you so we can avoid any awkward confrontations later."

"What _kind_ of confession?"

"We heard you and Merlin talking last night," Gwaine told him with a growing smirk, watching with great amusement as Arthur's eyes grew wide and he lost his confident posture. "Every word."

"You—but…how?"

"It was pretty hard not to, to be honest. I'm a light sleeper when I want to be, and you two were anything but quiet."

Arthur honestly wasn't sure whether to be angry or embarrassed. Shock seemed to be the most natural response.

"So…_all_ of you…?"

"I'm afraid so," said Lancelot.

"We didn't intend to eavesdrop," began Elyan, only to be interrupted with a muttered "speak for yourself" from Gwaine which quickly earned him a scowl from the other knight, "but it was kind of hard not to overhear you. You were both shouting at one point."

Arthur heaved a very deep sigh and found himself once again rubbing at the point between his eyes where the beginning of a headache was forming. Why did everyone around him have to be so exasperating?

"That conversation was meant to be _private_," he said.

"Well, I guess you probably should have thought about that before you started yelling."

There were times when he really, _really_ wished that he could strangle Gwaine. This happened to be one of them.

"What is it you want?" he finally asked, because there had to be some reason that they were doing this to him. Maybe they wanted some kind of admission, for him to admit that Merlin had saved them all, or maybe it was an apology they were seeking. Perhaps they wanted to hear him apologize to his servant for being an oblivious prat and for never giving him the recognition he deserved.

With those thoughts in mind, it was no wonder that the truth ended up coming as quite a shock.

"Nothing," said Gwaine, a grin on his face, clearly enjoying every moment of the conversation. "I'm sure you were probably expecting this to be held over your head for a while, but I think I can let it go just this once. After all, you were able to help him, and you proved that maybe you aren't just some arrogant, self-centered noble. You actually listened to him for a change, and that's enough of a reason to let it go…for now, at least."

Arthur found himself fighting a losing battle against the grin slowly spreading across his face. He had honestly been expecting the worst. A part of him had even been prepared for Gwaine to berate him again, but instead it seemed the knight was calling a type of truce. Ever since that night at the tavern, the air between them had been sour, and he knew that the fault was entirely his own. However, it seemed that Gwaine was perfectly happy to let it go for now, and all because he had managed to lift some of the weight that Merlin had been shouldering for so long. Even though he had only done what he felt was necessary, it seemed that that alone was enough to appease his most hot-headed knight.

Most people would probably look at them and wonder how a mere servant had managed to gain the loyalty of so many knights (and it wasn't just Lancelot, Gwaine, and Elyan but Leon and Percival along with so many others within Camelot), but Arthur no longer needed to question it. He never had, really.

"…Why are you all just standing around?"

The four of them turned to find Merlin watching them from his spot near the wall as he began gathering up their remaining supplies.

"Shouldn't we be going?" he asked. "We don't really have a lot of time to waste, unless of course you fancy starving to death."

The four of them shared a brief, knowing glance, all of them thinking along the same lines. It was good to have the old Merlin back, pessimistic sarcasm and all.

"We have enough food to last us at least three days," said Gwaine, casually making his way back over to the servant. "I intend to be well on my way out of here by then."

Arthur just shook his head in amusement before taking a deep breath and composing himself, a hint of a smile still lingering on his face.

"Alright," he said, falling easily back into the role he was born for. "As soon as we finish packing up, we'll head out."

* * *

><p>He had <em>known<em> that the question was coming. He had been waiting for it ever since they had found out that he had a sixth sense when it came to the vale. He had even known who would probably be the one to ask it. However, that didn't make it seem any less ridiculous than it really was. It also didn't mean that he had an answer.

"So, question," began Gwaine. "If we passed through the mist to get here, then why can't we just leave the same way?"

"I thought that would've been obvious," said Elyan, but Gwaine merely rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious. It's not a wall or a barrier. You could easily pass through it."

"That may be true," Arthur said with a sigh, "but that's not the problem, is it."

The five of them had left the tower not even an hour ago, walking the corridors of the castle until they had found themselves outside. It hadn't taken long after that for them to notice the thick sheet of mist that enclosed the castle, creating a dome like shield around it. That was when Gwaine had seen fit to voice the question that all of them had probably thought of at one point before realizing why it wasn't a good idea. Gwaine, risk-taker and gambler that he was, didn't see a problem with it.

"We don't know what will happen if we try to leave," Arthur continued. "Every story we heard said that no one had ever come back. Obviously, if you could simply walk out, someone would have managed it by now."

"We won't know unless we try."

"It's too great a risk," said Lancelot, trying to convince Gwaine that this was a bad idea. "We need to be careful. We have no idea what we're up against."

"I still think we should at least try."

As they continued to discuss the topic, Merlin found himself staring at the wall of white swirling ominously before them. It really didn't look like anything other than mist, but he already knew that to be wrong. Even though he had managed to find a way to ignore them, to tolerate the voices and the prodding at the back of his mind, he knew that all of them were still there, just as loud and desperate as ever. The mist was filled with them, and trying to walk back through it would likely result in something terrible happening. After all, most people probably would have tried to leave, and seeing as how none of them had succeeded in escaping, it was safe to say that heading back through the mist was a horrible idea.

Gwaine still seemed pretty set on at least trying it, inching his way closer and closer.

…_It won't work._

This time around, Merlin did jump a bit when he heard the now familiar voice echo through his head.

_What won't?_ He still wasn't sure if he was doing it right, but he tried to ask anyway.

_It's impossible to go back. Once you enter this place, you can not leave. If you step through the mist, it matters not how hard you try. You will be lost, left to wander the vale until you die._

"Gwaine, _stop_," he demanded, and unlike with Arthur, the knight actually listened. All four of them turned to face him.

"What's wrong?" Gwaine asked, waiting for an explanation.

"It won't work. You can't leave the vale, not like that. The moment you step into the mist, you'll never be able to find your way back."

Usually whenever he said things like that, no one would take him seriously (except for Gaius and Gwen, and now there was Lancelot as well), but the reaction his words garnered this time around was quite different. Gwaine immediately backed away from the mist and the rest of them took quite a few steps back as well as if they expected it to suddenly suck them in.

In a way it was kind of nice to be believed without having to yell or plead. He couldn't help but hope that they'd be willing to listen to him more often in the future.

"Well, so much for _that_ plan," said Elyan as he gave his fellow knight a look that clearly said "I told you so." Gwaine just shrugged it off and kept walking. It wasn't long before all of them were once again heading down the corridors, looking for anything that was out of the ordinary.

_Thank you, _Merlin said, trying to let the words ring out the same way that the voice's always did. He still had no idea what it was or where it was coming from, but so far it hadn't done him any harm. In fact, all of its advice had been rather sound. He just hoped that it really _was_ a voice and not a sign that he was slowly going mad. He had enough to deal with without having that potential problem weighing on his mind.

He wasn't sure how long they spent wandering the castle, checking rooms and holes in the walls and anything else they could find, but it felt like hours. It was impossible to tell the time when the sun was completely obscured, but it had to be well past midday and still they hadn't found anything. There was nothing else out of the ordinary other than what they had already found (the staff which they couldn't touch and the wooden doors they couldn't open). Going back to the staff wouldn't do them any good, because trying to remove it without knowing what was truly required was nothing short of suicide.

Therefore Arthur ended up leading them back towards the huge wooden doors in the hopes that they'd be able to find a way to open them.

"Didn't we try this already?" asked Gwaine as they stood before the only room in the castle that they couldn't get into.

"We have nothing else to go on," said Lancelot, running his hand over the wood.

"But they didn't open before," Elyan pointed out, "so why would they now?"

While the knights conversed (or argued. Same thing, really), Merlin stood off to the side and studied the anomaly before them. There was magic there; he could feel it. Nothing else explained how a huge set of wooden doors had been able to outlast even the stone pillars and archways all around the castle. They looked as if they were brand new, untouched, but he knew that wasn't possible given where they were. The only explanation was magic. Nothing else made sense.

And if that was the case, then nothing they tried would be able to open them. If it was the same type of magic that covered the vale, then it was likely that not even his power would be enough to break through the spell.

"Alright, let's try this one more time," said Arthur as he and the rest of the knights prepared to push against the doors. Merlin simply watched as they gave it their all, shoving until their feet began to slide against the stone beneath them, and still the doors didn't budge. They may as well have been pushing against a rock wall for all the good it did.

"Maybe we really should see if we can knock them down," suggested Gwaine. "I'm sure there's got to be a pillar around here somewhere that we could use."

The warlock fought the urge to sigh, watching in slight amusement as his friends began looking around for a mostly intact pillar that they could use as a battering ram. While all of them were distracted with their task, he slowly made his way over to the doors. He just wanted to see if he could figure out what sort of spell had been placed on them. Even from a distance, he could feel the magic radiating from it, but it wasn't enough to figure out just what had been done.

Maybe, if he was lucky, he'd be able to find a way to break it. He was sure that if he did, he could find some way to explain it to the knights without getting himself into trouble.

When he was no more than two feet away, he stopped and simply studied them for a moment. They were huge doors, bigger than the ones for the great hall in Camelot, and strangely enough, there were no knobs or handles on the outside. There wasn't even a lock. Of course, who needed a lock when there was magic protecting them?

Very carefully he reached out a hand and placed it against the door.

The effect was immediate.

The moment his skin brushed against the wood, soft and smooth against his palm, his magic reached out, and in return the magic radiating off the door rushed towards him. A shock raced through his entire body, and he immediately drew his hand back, but the damage had already been done. The magic that he had been able to feel in the air suddenly felt thicker, tense, and charged with an energy he could scarcely fathom, but what was most disconcerting of all was that everything suddenly fell _silent_.

It was enough of a change that even the knights noticed, all of them tensing before moving very slowly, looking around as if trying to find the cause.

It felt like a storm was coming.

"_You…"_

In the absolute stillness, her voice rang out like thunder. Standing upon a collapsed pillar with eyes like fire was Eiwyn.

"I warned you…" she said, soft and fierce and nothing like how her voice had once been. Merlin wasn't sure if the others could see it, but the air around her was sparking, swirling with power and magic the likes of which he had never before seen.

Eyes that had once been a soft, faded gold were now burning bright as the sun.

"You will_ not_ enter that room."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Well, I hope you enjoyed it :) As always, thank you so much for all the reviews. Really, it means a lot :) I'm always kind of blown away by the responses I get, so thank you! I also just want to thank everyone who's reading. I'm glad you're enjoying my fic.

Not much else to say other than I hope to hear from you and I'm sorry for ending yet _another_ chapter with a cliffhanger (but I'm really kind of not, cause I rather love them :)

Until next week!


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** So tired...not even going to get 4 hours of sleep tonight. Why can't my plans ever work the way they're supposed to? And why must the internet be slow when I'm tired?

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language.  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know. Feel free to let me know if you see something.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin.

There was stuff I wanted to say, but I don't remember it anymore. But anyway, this chapter is just a bit shorter than some of the others, but stuff happens in it. I had to cut it where I did because the next few bits kind of all need to go together. I also get the feeling that this chapter probably created more questions than answers.

Only read through this once after writing it all today, and I was falling asleep at the time, so if there's anything wrong, please let me know :)

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><p>CHAPTER 18<p>

Merlin instinctively took a few steps back as those eyes swept over their group, boring into each and every one of them. He was vaguely aware of the knights shifting their stances, watching her warily and just waiting for something to happen, some sign of an attack. Unlike him, they weren't able to see or feel the magic permeating the air, thick and suffocating and undeniably powerful. They were unaware of the danger they were all in, because despite her appearance, she was anything but weak. He wasn't sure what it was about her, whether it was the magic or something else entirely that made every instinct he had demand that he run, but whatever it was, he really wasn't in any hurry to find out.

For a while none of them moved, and Merlin just continued to take one step back at a time to put a little more distance between himself and the angry woman before them. He couldn't help but think that whatever was behind that door had to be important, because during their last encounter, Eiwyn and assured them that they wouldn't be seeing her again, and yet here she was not even a day later. Clearly she had been expecting them to simply wander the castle without achieving anything, to merely blunder about in the dark. She had probably believed that they would try to escape in some way (like most probably had) and end up getting themselves killed along the way.

Unfortunately, none of them had ever been very good at sitting around and doing nothing _or_ running away. They were, however, very good at interfering.

As the magic in the air continued to spark around them, Merlin could feel and hear the voices more clearly than ever, as if they were reacting to the change, but something was different. Unlike the desperation and the sorrow he had felt before, there was also regret, resignation, and something else he couldn't seem to reach—vast and unexplainable, without logic or reason.

If he didn't know any better, he would have called it loyalty…but surely that wasn't possible. It didn't make any sense…or did it?

Not for the first time, he realized that he truly didn't know anything about the vale. He didn't know what had happened, what the voices were, why they were there, and most importantly, he had no idea just who or _what_ Eiwyn truly was. Perhaps if he could just figure out that last part, he'd be able to understand. Maybe if he talked to her, reasoned with her, she'd be willing to tell him, to explain. It was a worth a try. He really had nothing left to lose (their situation couldn't really get much worse, after all).

The warlock was just getting ready to try and placate the very angry magical being (because that's what she was in the plainest sense) before him when he felt his back come into contact with the wooden doors behind him. He had taken one too many steps back, and the moment he touched them, the magic reached for him again. He wasn't sure why or what it wanted, but the effect was the same as before. Eiwyn immediately spun to face him, her movements sharp as the crack of a whip. Her eyes widened, a look of surprise crossing her face—one of the few real emotions he had ever seen on her (and once more he couldn't help but feel that despite what she was, a part of her was still undeniably human).

"You…" she whispered, her voice trembling. Merlin immediately moved away from the door, trying to appear like he wasn't aware of what he had done—he really wasn't, to be honest, because he had no idea why that door was so important, but he knew that he had done _something_. He watched her warily and with more than a little fear as realization suddenly dawned on her face.

He knew, almost instinctively, that he had unintentionally just given himself away.

"You…" she began, her voice tainted with awe. "So you're…"

_No, please,_ he silently pleaded. _Don't say it!_ He didn't want to be discovered, not like this!

Whether she heard him or not, he didn't know, but in the end she didn't continue. Instead those sun-colored eyes hardened and her expression slipped back into one of quiet anger. She regarded him with an air of calm determination, her momentary surprise all but gone.

"I see," she said, her voice soft but strong in the silence. "So that's why. It makes sense."

"What are you talking about?" asked Arthur, immediately drawing Merlin's attention for a moment (he had almost forgotten that they were still there). The prince glanced over at the servant before his attention was drawn back to Eiwyn, and the warlock prayed once more that she wouldn't reveal him, that she would just ignore Arthur like she usually did when he asked her something. Sure enough (and much to the prince's obvious irritation), she did exactly that.

"I'm sorry," she began, slowly raising an arm until it was straight out in front of her, "but I'm afraid I won't be able to let you wander the vale after all."

Those bright eyes closed as she bowed her head. Merlin had no idea what she was going to do, and he really had no desire to find out. He quickly moved away, heading over to the knights just as they had been making their way towards him. This time around it was obvious that they could all feel it, the stirring in the air. A soft wind began to pick up, and the mist that always seemed to be clinging to their surroundings began to grow thicker.

"This really can't be good," said Gwaine, his eyes never leaving Eiwyn.

"We should get out of here," Lancelot suggested, looking to Merlin for an answer, but the warlock was too distracted by what he could feel happening around them. He knew that magic was being used, but Eiwyn wasn't speaking. There was no spell, no incantation, nothing. It was as if the magic in the air already belonged to her, as if it were an extension of herself. He couldn't help but watch, both afraid and awed by the display as the mist around them began to gather and take form.

"…It doesn't matter where you go," said Eiwyn, her eyes finally opening again, still blazing with power. "They'll still find you."

"They?" Elyan questioned, but his query was soon answered as the gathered mist began to separate and shift until there were five shapes before them. Each one was about the size of a small horse with bodies that greatly resembled a cross between a wolf and a wyvern. They were slightly transparent, having been created out of the mist, but the claws on each paw looked as sharp as any blade.

As they finished forming, each one bared its teeth with a quiet but no less threatening growl. It was a sound unlike any he had heard before, somewhere between the harsh snarling of a dog and the howling of a wolf but as light as the mist they were born from. The five beasts stood before Eiwyn, their eyes nothing more than red points upon their snouts, and Merlin was certain that even in the black of night they would still glow as bright as any light.

"What do you suppose they are?" asked Gwaine, his hand already on the hilt of his sword as he prepared to draw it.

"I don't know," said Elyan. "I've never seen creatures like that."

"Merlin?" called Lancelot, nudging the warlock to try and get his attention. "Do you know what they are?"

The warlock could only shake his head (not for the first time, he desperately wished that he had brought some of Gaius' books with him, preferably the one with all the magical creatures in it) while he tried to figure out what to do. Whatever they were, they were indeed magical. There was no way swords alone would be able to slay them, and with the knights so close by, he wouldn't be able to use his magic, and even if he could, he wouldn't know what spell to use. There was a good chance that nothing would work, no matter what he tried. Those creatures weren't natural. They didn't have solid bodies, nothing to injure or destroy.

What were they supposed to do? If he didn't come up with something soon, they were all going to end up dead.

_Run!_

It was that voice again, but it was louder this time, its tone desperate as it echoed his own thoughts about the situation.

_You must run!_

_Where?_ Because honestly, where were they supposed to go? There was nowhere safe for them to hide. Eiwyn was able to disappear and reappear anywhere she liked. There was no place for them to go!

_The western tower! You'll be safe there!_

_The western…what?_

Merlin pulled his eyes away from the beasts and glanced up. Due to the collapsed ceiling, he was able to see other parts of the castle from where they were, and sure enough, standing tall and proud in the far corner was a tower—a _different_ tower from the one they had stayed in. Vaguely he could recall seeing two towers when they had first found the castle, and yet for some reason he hadn't remembered it until just a moment ago when the voice had pointed it out. _Why didn't I notice it before?_

It was almost as if it had been completely erased from his memory, as if none of them had been able to remember it even though they had all seen it. Earlier they had explored the entire castle, but they hadn't once gone inside that tower.

_Go! Head for the tower! Keep running until you come to a door! I'll grant you entrance! Her influence won't be able to reach you there!_

He wasn't sure why he was so willing to trust someone that he didn't know, that he couldn't even see, but whoever they were, they hadn't led him astray yet. He would simply have to have faith.

The five beasts all pawed at the ground before lowering their bodies, preparing to strike. Before any of the knights could even draw their swords, Merlin did the only thing he could think of.

"Run!" he shouted, grabbing both Arthur and Gwaine by the arm (the two who were the least likely to listen to such an order) and pushing them towards the open corridor.

"Merlin, _what_…" Arthur began, his voice already taking on a haughty, indignant tone, but Merlin didn't even bother to let him finish, because there just _wasn't_ time for it.

"We have to run!" he told them. "There's a tower, that way! We'll be safe there! Please, you can't fight them!"

Arthur was about to disagree, to push past Merlin and draw his sword before the monsters could pounce, but one last plea made up his mind for him.

"Please, Arthur, just _trust_ me!"

In that moment, he knew what he had to do.

Without any further warning, the beasts lunged towards them.

"Come on!" Arthur commanded, grabbing his servant by the arm as he began to sprint down the corridor, already knowing that his knights would follow. He quickly shoved Merlin in front of him and let him lead the way as they tore down the halls as if the demons of hell were on their heels (and perhaps they were, for all he knew). He couldn't help but glance back, and just as he expected, the beasts Eiwyn had summoned were chasing them, their footfalls nothing but a soft patter against the floor (they _were_ made of mist, after all).

For the time being, they were somehow managing to outrun them, but that could easily change if they weren't careful. As a precaution, the knights all drew their swords, ready for an encounter if the need arose, but for now they were more than willing to follow after Merlin. As long as they were in the vale, their lives were in his hands. He was the only one of them who could sense anything, and if he claimed that there was a place where they'd be safe for now, then they weren't about to doubt him.

For Arthur though, it was a much more personal matter, something beyond the mere thought of a safe haven. Everything he and Merlin had talked about was still present in his mind, as was the guilt he couldn't help but feel over the whole thing. During his story, there had been one moment that had stood out from the rest, a single question asked with a sad, knowing look on his face.

"_Would you have believed me if I had?"_

How many times had Merlin come to him over the years, asking for Arthur to trust him, to believe him (Cedric, Lady Katrina, the goblin) only for his concerns to be brushed aside? Sure, there had been times where Arthur had chosen to believe Merlin, but the times he hadn't far outweighed the rest even though his servant had proven himself to be loyal and true to his word. Merlin always came to him earnestly with only the best of intentions. He couldn't keep doubting him, especially not when it mattered most.

The situation with Morgana had become what it was because Merlin hadn't been able to trust him with the truth, so he needed to do everything in his power to fix that. If that meant running away every now and again, then so be it. This time around, he would trust Merlin, no questions asked.

The five of them sprinted down the corridors, dodging rubble and fallen pillars. The beasts following them had little trouble getting around the obstacles, and it seemed that with each corner they turned, their pursuers were gaining on them. However, none of them dared to question Merlin about where he was leading them. He just seemed to know where he was going.

When they turned one last corner, they found themselves in a part of the castle that they didn't recognize, an area that they hadn't explored when they had been wandering earlier, and Arthur couldn't understand why they hadn't stumbled upon it. Before them was a massive tower, and Merlin quickly led them through the entryway and up the winding staircase which seemed to grow wider and wider the further up they went. Below them they could still hear the creatures, their claws scraping against the stone as they climbed.

They couldn't stop running. No matter what, they couldn't stop, because it would be dangerous to try and fight on a flight of stairs so steep and endless, but all of them were quickly tiring. Soon enough though the spirals of stairs ended and they found themselves on a straight set that led to a room of some kind. His eyes widened a bit as he saw what stood before them.

The room was barred by a huge wooden door.

They ran right up to it, and without any hesitation, Merlin placed his hands against it and pushed while the rest of them caught up, still trying to make sense of what they were seeing (because by all sense of logic, it shouldn't have been there).

"A door?" Gwaine questioned, but Merlin quickly cut any further comments off by shoving it open and motioning for them to hurry.

"Just come on!" he urged, and not one of them needed telling twice. They practically threw themselves through the opening and into the room beyond it, and with some help from Lancelot, Merlin was able to close the door behind them just before the beasts could enter. He felt the wood shift as they slammed into it, but once it was properly closed, all the sounds from beyond it simply vanished.

Heaving a deep sigh and finally allowing his body to rest, the warlock slumped against the door and let himself slide to the ground, panting as he tried to catch his breath. The knights were doing much the same, lying or sitting on the floor and breathing quickly, letting themselves rest after running for their lives. It wasn't until they had all calmed down a bit that they finally took a good look at exactly where they were.

"What…?" began Arthur, but the prince didn't get any further than that as he stared at the space around them in what could only be described as awe. Merlin's own reaction wasn't any better as he gazed at their surroundings. The room truly wasn't anything spectacular—there wasn't even all that much in it—but given what the rest of the castle looked like, it was nothing short of incredible. The floor beneath them was made of stone but it was smooth and polished without a single crack to mar it. Every pillar that stood as a support was perfect, not a single bit of stone out of place.

Even more impressive was the fact that there were tables and chairs, candles, an ink well, pieces of parchment, plates, utensils, cutlery, vases, banners, a bloody _tapestry_—everything that they hadn't seen anywhere else in the castle but all of which must have existed at one point or another.

It seemed that everything in the room, even the door that had led to it, had remained exactly as it had always been, completely untouched by whatever disaster had struck the vale. Not even time itself had been able to destroy it.

"Just what is this place?" asked Gwaine as he got to his feet and began wandering around. Curiosity was quick to get the rest of them as well as they all stood up and walked further into the room, glancing around at the mess that surrounded them. However, despite the fact that most of the chairs had been tipped over and just about all the parchment was scattered across the floor, it didn't change the fact that what they were seeing was truly a welcome sight despite being an anomaly.

Perhaps they had finally stumbled upon something that would provide them with some answers.

"It's all a bit dusty," Elyan pointed out, his tone one of astonishment as he ran his hand along the wood of one of the tables, "but other than that, it's all in perfect condition, as if all of it were new."

"How is this even possible?" asked Arthur as he picked up a quill from where it had been sitting in an ink well, the end dripping with what appeared to be fresh ink.

"Do you think it's possible that someone might be living here?"

"I don't think so," said Gwaine. "There's no food or water anywhere in the vale. No one would be able to last long. Besides, that wouldn't explain why this room seems to be the only one that's still intact."

"…Do any of you recognize this crest?"

Arthur, Elyan, and Gwaine all turned to where Lancelot was standing in front of a banner. It was hooked to one of the pillars and was a vibrant blue in color. The symbol upon it looked like a tree of some kind with branches that hung like a willow's but were long enough to touch the earth. It was embroidered in silver and gold, a bright contrast to the deep blue around it.

"I've been to a lot of places in the last few years," Lancelot began, "but I've never seen this crest or anything that could have descended from it."

"Same here," said Gwaine as he touched the edge of the material (not ripped, not frayed). "I've been to a lot of kingdoms and seen plenty of nobles, but none bore a crest like this. I've also never seen a tree quite like the one on here."

"There are books in Camelot that show all sorts of crests, both old and recent," Arthur mused, reaching up to run a finger along the embroidered tree. "I've looked through them a few times, but I don't remember ever coming across this particular one." The prince continued to scrutinize it, but no matter how long he stared, it didn't become familiar, didn't spark any recognition. He knew a great deal of history about the five kingdoms thanks to his father and his own desperate desire to prove himself even in his studies, but he couldn't remember hearing about a kingdom located where this one apparently was.

Just how old _was_ the vale?

"…Merlin?"

Once again it was Lancelot who managed to draw their attention and focus it in another place. All of them turned to where he was looking, to where Merlin was standing. He wasn't all that far away from them, but instead of looking around or joining them, he was just standing there with his eyes closed. He looked calm and focused, and they were immediately curious as to what he was trying to do.

"Everything alright, Merlin?" Gwaine asked as he began to head over, followed in short by the rest of them. Merlin cocked his head to the side a bit, almost as if he were trying to listen for something.

"Yes," he answered though it came out sounding a lot like a question. "…No? I'm not sure yet."

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked, unable to keep the incredulity and exasperation completely out of his voice even though he had surely tried (it was just something that happened when dealing with Merlin).

"Listening."

"For what?"

"Just…something. Anything."

"Why?"

"Because it's quiet."

Merlin opened his eyes and looked right at them, his expression grave and filled with meaning. It only took a moment for them to realize what he was actually trying to say.

"So…you can't hear them? Those voices?" he asked the servant, wanting to know for certain that they were all on the same page. Merlin only nodded before looking around the room as if he were searching for something, as if he believed they were only hiding somewhere.

"I stopped hearing them the moment we entered this room."

"Isn't that a good thing?" asked Elyan, voicing the question they all probably wanted to ask, because even though it should have been good news, Merlin was acting as if something was wrong.

"I don't know," he told them, lowering his gaze to the ground. "When Eiwyn came, they sort of became clearer. I thought that if I listened a bit harder, I might be able to understand, but I can't hear them anymore."

A small grin crossed his face, amused and sheepish at the same time.

"It's a bit funny, really. I had sort of gotten used to it. Feels a bit empty now."

"Well, obviously," agreed Arthur with a grin, unable to pass up the opportunity that Merlin had so kindly given him. "You don't have much left in there now, after all."

And Merlin, true to form, gave as good as he got.

"At least I've got _something_ in there."

The glare that comment earned him only made him smile more, and he could see that Arthur was doing his best to fight down a smile of his own. Despite everything that had just happened, he suddenly felt lighter than he had in days, and even though he wasn't any closer to understanding the vale than he had been before, he couldn't help but feel that maybe everything would turn out alright after all. This time around, he wasn't fighting all on his own. All of them were still together, still alive, and that had to count for something.

For now, it was more than enough.

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><p><em>They're gone…<em>

_We can't find them…_

_Can't feel them…_

_They're gone…_

A pair of sun-bright eyes opened, the light in them slowly fading into a dull gold. No matter how hard she tried to find the trespassers, she could no longer feel them anywhere. One moment they had been moving through the corridors and the next they were simply gone. She would have been able to feel it if the beasts had caught them, but instead it was as if they had simply vanished into thin air. She couldn't even seem to find the exact place where they had vanished. It was almost as if they had never been there at all.

Nothing like this had ever happened before. Where could they have gone?

Why couldn't she sense them?

Eiwyn closed her eyes once more and leant back against her perch, focusing once again on finding the knights and their sorcerer, but no matter how far she reached, she couldn't feel them anywhere. She had always been able to tell whenever someone entered the vale, could feel exactly where they were and what they were doing. Nothing could be hidden from her in the mist. She knew the vale as intimately as she did herself, and everything that wandered into it immediately became a part of it, but for some reason she just couldn't find them. There wasn't even a trace.

No matter what, she had to get rid of them. They were too dangerous, especially that boy. If she had known how powerful he was, she never would have allowed him to wander the vale.

_The boy has magic…_

_He's different…_

_He is magic…_

_You must stop him…_

"I _know_," she whispered. "I know. You don't have to tell me."

_We're sorry…_

_So sorry, Lady Eiwyn…_

"No. No, I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have left them. They're trespassers, just like the rest."

She couldn't let them stay, couldn't allow them to wander freely, because there was something different about them, something she couldn't understand. _If given enough time, I wonder if they'd be able to do it. If I allowed them to, could they possibly…_

_You can't!_

_You mustn't!_

_Don't doubt!_

_You can't let them!_

"I know," she told them. "I _know_. I can't. I _won't_, but I can't stop them if I can't find them."

_It's him._

_It has to be._

_There's no one else._

_You know…_

_You know it's him._

"…Rhoshad." There was no one else. If she could no longer feel them, then it had to be because he was shielding them. Somewhere, somehow, he was hiding them…but why? Why interfere now when he never had before…and how could he still have enough power to keep them from her?

And if he was still there, then why couldn't she reach him?

_How long has it been since I last heard your voice?_

_Why are you helping them…when you know it can't end?_

With a sigh as soft and breathless as the air, she opened her eyes once more and stared at the door before her, still standing and still closed, never to be opened again. Even if the castle walls crumbled into dust, those doors would still stand, would still guard the one thing that was still worth protecting.

With nothing left to do but wait, she leant back into the warm embrace of limbs as soft as silk and a color as rich as gold, listening to the rustling of leaves that shone like silver in the sun as they danced along the ground.

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><p><strong>AN:** Well, that's all for now.

To the anonymous reviews I couldn't write responses to and to anyone else I didn't get to: Thank you so much for the reviews! Normally I would try to write a small section here to respond, but it got really later, and I'm sorry. I am very grateful though, and I do hope you're enjoying the fic :)

This next week, I will definitely get around to all of the reviews seeing as how I have Saturday through Tuesday off from work (my hours got hacked).

Thank you for reading, and I can't wait to hear from you :)

Until next week!


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** I am epic fail at time management. I had four days off, and I still pushed this till the last minute (I'm going to be going to work half dead again...sigh).

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language.  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know. Feel free to let me know if you see something.

I had things to say, but I've forgotten them. Anyway though, if you find any errors, feel free to point them out and I shall fix them :)

Hope you enjoy :)

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><p>CHAPTER 19<p>

"Alright," began Arthur, once again falling effortlessly back into the role of leader, "spread out and see what you can find. We should be alright as long as we remain in this part of the tower."

That last comment was made while looking at Merlin, half asking if his assumption was true. The warlock merely nodded once, assuring him that as long as they stayed behind that door, they would be safe. Eiwyn wouldn't be able to find them here.

The knights all spread out, searching through what they had found before as well as peering into some of the adjoining rooms. There were quite a few smaller areas, some that were in better shape than others. Most appeared to be storage rooms or small dwellings, but for the most part there wasn't anything useful in them. No food, no water, no details about where they were. Even a book would have been helpful, but there weren't any of those lying around either.

All in all, their search attempt wasn't likely to get them anywhere.

Slipping into one of the small rooms, Merlin allowed himself to settle against the wall and take a few deep breaths to try and settle himself. He was still rather exhausted after running for so long and felt just the slightest bit sick. He hadn't slept, after all, and even though he had managed to eat something that morning, it hadn't been much and it didn't make up for not eating the night before. However, thankfully that was all he was feeling. The nausea and the illness he had been experiencing after setting foot within the vale had completely vanished along with the voices. It was a relief, but at the same time it spawned a number of new worries and questions, because he still wasn't sure _why_ they were gone. There had to be a reason (and there was really only one person who could tell him).

Seeing as how he wasn't likely to be disturbed for a while since his companions were all busy with their own searches, the warlock relaxed a bit further and closed his eyes, focusing his thoughts and his magic. He wanted to see if he could call out to whoever had led them here, to the voice that had helped him in more ways than one. It was harder now because he couldn't really feel things the same way he had been able to before, but in the end he still managed to extend his thoughts and reach out. It was different from how the druids spoke to him but it was similar enough that he was able to get the hang of it rather quickly.

_Hello?_

His first attempt earned him only silence.

_Are you there?_

His second attempt didn't go much better. He tried to focus harder, drowning out the sounds around him and stretching his perception as far as he could. He needed to reach the person who had helped him, because there was no one else who could give him the answers he needed.

_Hello…?_

It was faint at first, but it wasn't long before he could feel a presence at the back of his mind, soft and yielding, calm and unobtrusive—completely different from the barrage he had been subjected to by the vale.

_Are you there? _He tried calling out once more, and this time that warm, familiar tone echoed back.

_I am. Is something wrong?_

_No, I just…I wanted to thank you for saving us._

_You're more than welcome._

He wasn't sure how he knew, but he was certain that if voices could smile, this one certainly was. It was strange how at ease he felt talking to someone he didn't know, who he had never even seen before, but for some reason he felt like he could trust them, whoever they were. He knew it was foolish (he had been told off before for trusting people too easily), but he couldn't help the way he felt. There was a connection, something he couldn't explain, but it was calming, reassuring.

It almost felt like he was talking to a friend.

_Is there something troubling you?_

_No, I was just thinking. It's nothing, really._

_Very well._

_By the way…we haven't really been properly introduced yet, have we?_

The moment he thought it, he realized just how true it was and how awkward it felt calling out to someone who he couldn't call by name. He didn't want to have to call out with "hey" or "you," or keep referring to the person as "voice" every time he thought about them. He wasn't even sure if he was talking to a man or a woman since there wasn't really a tonal quality. It wasn't so much that he was hearing the words in his head as he was feeling them.

_I'm Merlin,_ he began only to mentally smack himself because he was fairly certain the voice was already knew his name, _although you probably already knew that…_

Once more he was certain that the voice was smiling, and this time it almost felt like it was laughing as well. It was a light, almost mirthful feeling that accompanied the words that followed. _I did, but I appreciate the formality nonetheless. It's been a long time since anyone has conversed with me in such a way._

Merlin couldn't help but smile, instantly glad that he had decided to bother with this. _Can I ask what your name is? I would hate to keep thinking of you as just a voice in my head._

…_You may call me Rhoshad._

"Rhoshad," he whispered, testing out the name and finding that it somehow seemed to fit. Not only that, but it just felt right somehow. It felt _familiar_.

_Thank you._

_You needn't thank me. I was merely returning the gesture._

Seeing as how he wasn't planning on moving for a while, Merlin slid down the wall and took a seat on the floor. He knew that if he was gone for too long, someone would eventually come looking for him, but there was less chance of being interrupted if he stayed where he was (odds were he'd crash into something if he tried to walk while having a conversation in his head at the same time).

_So_, he began,_ I was wondering…what exactly is this place? Why can't Eiwyn reach us here?_

…_A long time ago, it served as the home of this kingdom's greatest scholars. Now, however, it serves as a sanctuary within the vale. It's the only place that Eiwyn can't see. The vale falls under her influence, except for this tower which lies solely under mine. It's the only place where my authority overrides hers. Even if she tried to search for it, she'd never be able to find it._

_I'm…not entirely sure I understand._

_I apologize. It's not an easy concept to explain or grasp, I'm afraid…and we're unfortunately running out of time._

_Running out of—what do you…?_

"Merlin?"

He hadn't meant to fall so deeply into his thoughts—honestly, he hadn't. It had simply happened while he was focusing, concentrating only on the feelings necessary to call out to Rhoshad. He hadn't realized that the connection he had felt earlier with him had actually been more than just his own interpretation of things, that instead he had formed a link of some kind between them. If he had known what would happen, he wouldn't have tuned the rest of his surroundings out so thoroughly, because the sudden sound of someone calling to him snapped him rather violently out of the trance he had been in, and the moment his connection with Rhoshad wavered, something happened.

The very world around him _shifted_.

For a brief moment, it felt like someone had punched him in the stomach, leaving him breathless, and when he tried to open his eyes, everything around him was different. Suddenly he could no longer see the room he had been in, and in its place were flashes of people and places, different areas of the castle and of the people who had once been there. He could see a room full of faces, each one pouring over stacks of books, desperate and terrified and frustrated with every failure and dead end. He saw men and women crying at the bedsides of loved ones lying as still as death, people screaming and begging for help, a courtyard filled with bodies, funeral pyres burning bright. He could hear people grieving, could feel their pain and desperation, all the fear and regret and the overwhelming grief of love-born loss, emotions so deep and so heavy that it felt like he was drowning in them.

It wasn't until someone physically grabbed him by the shoulders that he was finally pulled back into reality, into the room he had wandered into before talking to Rhoshad. At some point he clearly must have moved, because he was certain he had been sitting on the floor before, not standing in the corner with his back pressed firmly against the wall.

"Merlin?"

The warlock finally took the time to see who it was that had found him and was immediately thankful that out of all the knights, Lancelot was the one standing before him.

"Merlin, are you alright?" he asked, still holding him by the shoulders (and Merlin was almost certain that if not for that steadying grip, he would likely be on the floor by now). "Did something happen?"

Merlin took a deep breath and tried to push away what he had seen, but even if he could ignore the images, the emotions were another thing entirely. He shook his head and closed his eyes, but that only seemed to make things worse.

"Merlin, what is it?"

The warlock raised his head but looked around the room instead of meeting the concerned face of his friend. He tried to put his thoughts into words, to explain what he had come to realize even though a part of him had known it all along.

The whole castle—the whole _kingdom_—had once been full of people, full of _life_…and they had all died. Men, women, children, peasants, nobles—none of them had been spared. There had been no attacks, no monsters, no natural disasters, no wars. There was no battle that caused the kingdom to fall, no civil unrest, no power struggle that had torn the kingdom in two…and yet every single person had died. They had all been killed.

"Merlin?"

"Something…" he began softly, sucking in a sharp breath, "something terrible happened here. This used to be a kingdom, filled with people, but they all died. Something killed them."

"What did?"

"I don't know."

Lancelot very carefully and very slowly relaxed his grip on the warlock's shoulders, and when he was certain that his friend wasn't about to collapse on him, he let his arms drop back to his sides. When he had entered the room, Merlin had been standing in the far corner with his eyes closed, his face a mask of intense pain and fear. He had been trembling and likely would have fallen to the floor, but Lancelot had managed to reach him in time to steady him and snap him out of whatever trance he had been in.

Clearly he must have seen or felt something, and based on what he had just said, it couldn't have been anything good. Merlin still looked shaken, and he knew there wasn't anything he could do about it. He couldn't help but think that it was all extremely unfair, that no matter how hard he tried, there would always be burdens that he couldn't help his friend carry. Even though he was _right there_, he couldn't do anything. Even amongst so many friends, so many people who cared about him…Merlin was still alone in so many ways.

All he could do to help was to try and understand.

"Do you think the kingdom was attacked?" he asked.

"No, that's not it. It's something else."

"Like what?"

"…I don't know."

In a lot of cases, those words were usually a lie, but he knew that wasn't the case this time. As strange as it was, Lancelot had never really had a problem with reading Merlin. He could tell when he was lying or when he was hiding something, and sometimes he could even figure out the reason behind the lies. He knew his friend well despite how little time they had spent together over the last few years. The warlock was open and honest—a genuinely kind person—and when there weren't any secrets to get in the way, Merlin was an easy person to get to know.

Aside from Gaius, he was probably one of the only people who could actually claim to know Merlin well.

"Come on," he said, turning towards the door. "It's getting late, and Arthur will probably come looking for you if you don't make an appearance soon."

To his great relief, Merlin took a deep, calming breath and then let it out in a sigh, letting a look of slight exasperation cross his face. Whatever trauma he had witnessed, he was choosing not to let it get to him (it wouldn't do to obsess over something he couldn't change).

"I know, I know," he said as he came up beside the knight. "Honestly, I'm surprised he hasn't already. For someone who claims not to worry, he certainly has been doing a lot of it lately."

"He's just concerned about you. We all are."

"Well, you don't need to be, not anymore. We're safe here. I can't feel the vale at all."

Just as they reached the doorway, Lancelot turned to face the warlock, a question on his mind and one he didn't want to ask in the presence of the others.

"Merlin," he began, making sure he had his attention before continuing in a conspiratorial whisper. "How exactly did you know about this tower?"

Lancelot watched as the warlock looked away, biting at his bottom lip a bit in a clear sign of hesitation and indecision. He probably should have been offended by the fact that Merlin was clearly contemplating lying to him, but at the same time he understood why. It was a difficult habit to break, and even though Merlin had told him a lot over the last few months, there were still things he kept to himself, and Lancelot had no intention of badgering him for answers. After all, they all had their secrets, and he wouldn't begrudge Merlin his. He had every right to keep them.

When the warlock finally looked up again, most of the uncertainty had fled from his expression, and just from the look in his eyes, Lancelot knew he was about to get nothing but the truth.

"For a while now, after we entered the vale, I've been hearing this…_voice_ in my head."

"A voice?"

"Yes. His name is Rhoshad. He's been helping me, and his advice has all been sound so far. He's the one who led me here. When Eiwyn attacked, he told me to run. He said to head for the tower, that we'd be safe once we reached it. I was actually talking to him right before you came in."

"Rhoshad…?" Why did that sound familiar?

"…Is something wrong?" Merlin asked, looking a little worried.

"No, it's just…I feel like I've heard that name before."

"Really? So it's not just me then…"

Ever since Rhoshad had told the warlock his name, Merlin couldn't help but feel that it was familiar somehow. He was almost certain he had heard it before, but he couldn't seem to remember when. He had originally just assumed that it had something to do with his magic, that he was simply sensing something through their connection, but if Lancelot could also recall having heard it somewhere, then that clearly wasn't the case.

"Did you ask him anything about the vale?" Lancelot asked to which Merlin could only shake his head.

"No, not really. I didn't get the chance, and what he was able to tell me I don't entirely understand. I'll let you know though if I'm able to talk to him again."

"Alright, but Merlin…if you find out anything important, anything at all about the vale, you should let the others know as well. They _will_ listen to you."

"…Alright."

From the look on Lancelot's face, he could tell that the knight had fully expected him to disagree, but he just didn't feel like it, and even if he did, he still probably wouldn't. He just didn't want to, because for once Arthur was actually _listening_ to him, trusting him in a way he hadn't before, and he didn't want to ruin that. Besides, he had no reason to hide any information about the vale. If they wanted to get through this, they would have to stand together. Merlin wasn't about to withhold anything that could help them make it out of the vale alive (and they would, somehow, because he wasn't about to accept anything less).

Lancelot got over his surprise fairly quickly, and with only a shake of his head and a fond smile, the knight turned around and left the room with Merlin following not a moment later. Sure enough, the rest of their group was standing around one of the tables, righting enough chairs for the five of them to take a seat. Elyan was already digging through their rations again in order to put together some form of supper for them (which would mostly consist of dried meat, some vegetables, nuts, a bit of dried fruit, and some water).

As the two of them approached, Arthur looked up from his task (he was clearing off the table but making a rather large mess on the floor), and although it was brief, Merlin was certain that he had seen relief on the prince's face.

"Well," he began as he brushed the last stack of parchment onto the floor, "did either of you find anything?"

"No, unfortunately," said Merlin.

"We didn't find much either," said Gwaine as he finished righting the last chair. "Nothing useful, anyway. Most of the rooms are in pretty bad shape though they at least look better than the rest of the castle."

"Well, needless to say we'll be staying here tonight," said Arthur as he took a seat at the table. "We'll figure out what to do tomorrow."

All of them simply nodded in agreement, not needing to voice what they were all surely thinking as they watched Elyan sort through their rations. Their supplies would last them two, maybe three more days at the most. They needed to come up with a plan, to find a way out of the vale. There just had to be a way, something that they were overlooking, a path that they had yet to find.

There _had_ to be a way for them to escape, of that Merlin was certain.

After all, Rhoshad wouldn't have saved them if there wasn't.

* * *

><p>It was well into the evening when Gwaine finally noticed something that immediately brought a smile to his face. After their somewhat meager but necessary supper, all of them had simply remained sitting around the table, talking and sharing stories much like they had done at all the taverns they had stayed at on their way to the vale. After it had grown dark, they had gathered all of the candles in the room and set them on the table, lighting each one so they'd be able to see the area around them (there was a great deal of clutter on the floor, and it was more than likely that one of them would end up tripping over it in the darkness).<p>

He had just been finishing up an arm wrestling match with Elyan when he noticed a severe lack of conversation from the other end of the table. He had glanced over and saw that Arthur had been busy watching their match, Lancelot had been polishing his sword, and Merlin…

"Well, would you look at that," he said, grinning all the while as he drew everyone's attention first to him and then to where he was looking. Merlin was sitting at the end of the table, his upper body draped over it with his arms cushioning his head.

He was _sleeping_, and rather deeply at that. It was enough to make them all smile.

"He must have been exhausted," said Elyan quietly, not wanting to accidentally wake their friend, "especially after last night."

"He has been through a lot recently," Lancelot said as he gently set down his sword and got up from the table. "We should probably move him onto the floor. He'll be hurting come morning if he spends the night like that."

They all nodded in agreement and set about maneuvering the slumbering servant from the chair to the floor, clearing a space for him before very carefully laying him down. Elyan had managed to empty out one of their packs before folding it over twice and handing it to Lancelot. It could serve as a pillow of sorts (the floor was made of stone and was anything but comfortable).

Very carefully Lancelot slipped the folded sack under Merlin's head, and as soon as their friend was settled, the knight went one step further and took off his cape, draping it over the servant. The castle wasn't exactly warm, and unfortunately it wouldn't be wise to try and light a fire like they had the previous night (with their luck, they'd wake up to find the room ablaze due to the massive amount of papers that were strewn across the floor). Besides, they didn't have much that they could build a real fire from. The candles weren't enough, and the oil Elyan had found the previous day had burned a lot faster than they had expected. They were simply going to have to make do, and unlike the rest of them, Merlin didn't have a cape to use as a makeshift blanket nor was he wearing a padded shirt like they all had on under their chainmail.

It was a small sacrifice to give up his cloak when there was someone who needed it more, especially when that someone was Merlin. He had no doubt that the rest of them would have done the same.

The warlock shifted a bit after they were done with him, rolling onto his side as he settled into his makeshift bedroll. His breathing was still deep and even, a sure sign that he was very much still asleep despite having been moved from his chair to the floor. For a moment they all simply stayed close by, watching for any signs of discomfort or distress, but for the first time in days, Lancelot couldn't see any signs whatsoever of a nightmare. That didn't mean it wouldn't happen (most nights began peacefully only to change without a moment's notice), but for now at least he'd be able to get some sleep.

Without a word, the four of them returned to the table, not quite ready to turn in for the night but not willing to engage in anything that could potentially wake their friend. In sleep, Merlin looked far younger than he was, blameless and innocent, and waking him even by accident would leave them all feeling guilty.

The four of them settled comfortably into silence, but for once there was nothing awkward or stilted about it. There was no tension, no discomfort, no need to say something and shatter the stillness. They knew it wasn't likely to last, but at that moment they were all on the same page.

For the first time in what felt like forever, they were content.

* * *

><p>It was sometime around dawn, when the light was starting to settle across the land that Merlin found himself suddenly wide awake and with absolutely no idea how he had managed to end up on the floor (because he was far too comfortable to have merely fallen off his chair). He quickly sat up and noticed that not only had someone provided him with a makeshift pillow, but he also had a cape draped over him as well.<p>

Strange…he was fairly certain that he had fallen asleep at the table last night. Someone must have moved him.

The warlock rubbed at his eyes a bit before taking a good look around the room. All of the knights were still asleep, and all of them were fairly close by as well. He was quick to notice that the cape he was borrowing belonged to Lancelot, and he couldn't help but smile at the gesture. He wasn't one to complain (not often, anyway) about being uncomfortable or having less than the rest of them, but it was kind of nice to be on the receiving end every once in a while instead of always being the one to make sacrifices. He also knew that even if he had been awake at the time, there would have been no convincing his friend to do otherwise. Lancelot was the type of person who cared far more about others than he did about himself.

With a stifled yawn and a bit of stretching, the warlock very quietly got up and began to move around the room, being extra careful not to make any noise. He didn't want to wake his companions after they had gone through the trouble of tending to him after he had fallen asleep. They deserved all the rest they could get, because there was no telling what the next night would bring.

Merlin wandered through the spacious room, taking a look around since he hadn't really done so the day before. Like the knights had said, most of the rooms didn't have much in them. They were all fairly small as well. However, the warlock was certain that there had to be more to the tower than what they had seen. After all, it was a fairly tall structure, and they weren't anywhere near the top. There had to be more rooms above them, of that he had no doubt, but the question was whether or not it was safe to go further. The room they were in was protected, but were the ones above them safe as well?

There was really only one way to find out.

Merlin was just about to make his way towards the stairwell he could see on the far end of the room (and how the knights had missed _that_ he wasn't entirely sure, but he was certain that they would have checked it had they noticed it), but he quickly stopped as memories of the previous morning came back to him. If his friends were to wake up and find him missing again, they would likely panic (and this time he probably wouldn't get off so easily for disappearing on them).

Knowing that he needed to find some way of reassuring them that he hadn't gotten lost or kidnapped or anything else along those lines, he quickly looked around for something that would let them know that he was fine. His attention immediately went to the papers that were scattered all over the floor and the inkwell that was sitting on the table. He very quickly grabbed one of the papers and a quill and wrote out a short note, one that would probably earn him a good wallop from Arthur if the prince were to wake up before he returned and read it, but it would serve its purpose.

Setting the note down on top of the folded sack that had been his pillow, the warlock quickly made his way back across the room and towards the stairwell, taking a very cautious first step. When the air around him didn't change, he took another and then another, becoming more and more confident as he went. He would know the moment he stepped outside of the safe area, because he'd once again be able to feel the unnatural ambiance of the vale and hear the voices that saturated the air. So far he could feel nothing, and he prayed it would stay that way.

Eventually he came upon another room, the door already wide open. With only a moment of hesitation, he stepped inside but promptly froze in utter astonishment at what lay before him.

The room was huge, larger than any of the ones he had been in thus far, and it was filled with shelves upon shelves of books. For a moment he wasn't sure if he was just seeing things or not, because the sheer number of tomes was unbelievable (not even the archives in Camelot could compare). The castle was clearly old—almost ancient—and yet somehow all of its books had survived. Just like the room below him, this one had remained untouched by the passage of time.

Finally…_finally_ he had found something that could very well answer every question they had about the vale and the kingdom that it had once been. He wasn't sure where to even begin, but he was fairly certain that standing around and staring at the bookshelves wasn't going to accomplish anything. He needed to start looking, and as soon as the knights were awake, he would drag them up the stairs as well. Between the five of them they could surely find something that would help them.

Merlin very carefully and quietly made his way further into the room, wanting to see just how large it was before picking an area to start searching. There were tables set up every few aisles, each one littered with papers and quills. He recalled Rhoshad mentioning that the tower had once housed the kingdom's scholars, which made sense given the vast number of books available.

For a moment his mind strayed back to Camelot and to Gaius, picturing the look on his mentor's face if he were to see the amazing wealth of knowledge that was spread out before him. His friend could easily spend days upon days in a place like this.

As he kept walking, making his way to the back of the room, his pace began to slow as a familiar feeling started to prick at the back of his mind. He began to look around more, trying to catch sight of something while also attempting to convince himself that he was just being paranoid, that there was no one else in the room.

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something moving. He whirled around, preparing himself for the worst, but there wasn't anything there. He stood completely still, trying to listen for even the softest sound, but everything was silent around him. There was no one there.

However, when he tried to turn around and continue on his way, he once again thought he saw something and spun around, raising one hand in front of him just in case whatever it was turned out to be dangerous.

In the end though, what it actually was turned out to be anything but. Instead of being attacked or coming face to face with some sort of creature (or Eiwyn, for that matter), the room was suddenly filled with the sound of laughter. It was light and jovial, filled with a good-natured humor and not an ounce of derision.

In fact, he was fairly certain he knew that sound even though he didn't recognize the voice it belonged to.

"_My, my…you're a bit jumpy, aren't you? I must admit, I wasn't expecting you to be quite so paranoid."_

The warlock dropped his arm, his eyes widening as he looked around for the source of the voice. It almost seemed to be coming from the room itself, filling the space around him. There was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind though, one that seemed to be telling him that he knew the owner of that voice.

"_You needn't worry so much, Merlin. I told you that you'd be safe here, you and your friends…"_

And just like that, it all suddenly clicked. He _did_ know that voice even though he had never heard it before—he just hadn't been able to recognize it without being able to feel the words echoing through his mind. This time they weren't just thoughts and feelings that he could hear in his head. Instead they filled the entire room, casting it in warmth and light.

"…_And I have no intention of breaking my word."_

Merlin whirled around—those words had come from _behind_ him—and found himself staring at the image of a young man garbed in shades of blue and gray, with hair the color of rust and eyes like jade.

He knew exactly who this man was.

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, he knew.

"…Rhoshad."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well, there you have it. Another week, another chapter. There shall be massive amounts of story in the next few chapters :) I'm really excited to finally get to write it and answer all those unanswered questions :)

As always, thank you for all the reviews and to everyone who is reading. I'm glad you're enjoying my fic :)

Review Responses: So, since I want to respond to all of the reviews (and cause I used to do this before discovering the review reply feature), I'll use this section for the ones I couldn't respond to :) Oh, if this bothers you, please let me know, but only if it's for a legitimate reason (something along the lines of "it takes up space" is not legitimate).

AKnightofCamelot: Thanks for the review :) Yeah, I figured I'd cut Merlin a break for a bit. The poor boy needs some rest. Plus I'm not quite through picking on him. He still has to find a way out of the vale, after all :)

Arnia: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying it :) I'm having rather a lot of fun writing it and even more fun being able to share it. I hope I can continue doing well, 'cause I've still got lots of plans for this story :)

asdf: Thank you for the compliments :) Honestly, it's my pleasure to share this. I'm just glad people are enjoying it :) Good to know that the banter fits well. It's a rather important bit of their relationship, so I'm happy it comes across as feeling natural :)

arwa: Thank you :) I'm glad you're enjoying it. It's been a rather fun story to write thus far, so I'm happy it's turning out well :) Even though a week is a bit long of a wait, I promise that I shall always update. I've no intention of ever leaving a fic undone again :)

Anyway, that's all for today! (I apologize for the massive amount of smiley faces. It's a habit, because I'm almost always smiling :)

Until next week!


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** Don't have anything important to say today, really :) It's late, and I'm tired, and I've gotta work tomorrow and then go straight to choir practice...sigh. It's gonna be a long day.

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language. Better safe than sorry, ne?  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin :)

I'm sorry I wasn't able to get around to all the review responses. I ended up getting called into work today, so I didn't have my morning to do them all like I had planned. I shall definitely do them this week though seeing as how I have Saturday through Monday off :)

I don't think I have ever written so much dialogue before in a chapter. There is a lot of talking here, so hopefully it comes across okay. Plot related dialogue is always a bit tricky for me.

As always, if you find any errors, please point them out, and I shall fix them :)

Onward!

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 20<p>

For a long while, Merlin didn't say anything. He kept his eyes on the man before him, not knowing exactly what he should do or how to approach him. He knew for a fact that this man was Rhoshad, the voice he had been hearing ever since his first encounter with Eiwyn; the smile he had received after uttering his name was proof enough of that, but something just didn't feel quite right. He was having a rather hard time reconciling the voice in his head with the person standing before him. He _knew_ they were the same, but at the same time…

_I thought he'd be older_.

Rhoshad didn't look that much older than him, and yet when they had spoken, he had gotten the impression that he was speaking to someone wise and worldly, someone who had seen more than he could ever imagine. He had pictured him as an old man—ancient, powerful, and benevolent. This young man with reddish brown hair, green eyes, and a kind voice had been the last thing he had expected to see.

"Is there something wrong?"

Merlin was jolted out of his thoughts, adopting a somewhat guilty expression when he met those soft eyes and that mirthful smile.

"No…" he began, but the look he received made it seem like his thoughts were written plainly across his face, and he realized that there likely wasn't any point in lying. "It's just, well…"

As he contemplated a way to say what he was thinking without making it sound rude, the smile on Rhoshad's face shifted into an amused grin.

"You thought I'd be older, didn't you."

Well, apparently his thoughts really _were_ written all over his face. That or Rhoshad could read minds. He wouldn't put it past him.

"Um, well…"

"It's alright," the man said, shifting until his hands were clasped behind his back (it was a posture he often saw people take in court, one he himself often took when in the presence of the nobility…of course, it was also one that he had seen many of the nobility take as well). "If my appearance is disconcerting, I can change it. After all, you'd be right to assume that I'm older than I look. This just happens to be the image I'm most comfortable with."

"…Image?" What did he mean? It almost seemed like he was implying that he had _chosen_ to look like that.

"Yes. Here, I'll show you."

Rhoshad closed his eyes, and although it didn't seem like he was doing anything, Merlin could feel the air in the room shift just a bit. He watched with wide eyes as the young man before him began to change, his hair lengthening until it was down to his shoulders, taking on a gray tint flecked with white. Wrinkles and worry lines began to crease his face, and his skin grew pale until it stood out in sharp contrast to the rest of him.

Merlin was suddenly staring at a man well past his fifties…and yet he still couldn't help but feel that he was meant to be even older than that, that the image he was faced with now was nothing more than another façade.

When those green eyes opened again, they glanced down and around as if he were trying to take himself in.

"Well, I believe that _this_ is how I looked back then, give or take a few years or so, although…I seem to recall being at least a little older than this when I died."

…Wait_, what_?

It was said so casually, so thoughtlessly, and without even a shred of discomfort or sadness—as if he were talking about something as mundane and natural as the _weather_—but Merlin couldn't help his own reaction to that bit of information. His breath caught and his pulse began to race, his whole body tensing as he took a small step back. The movement drew Rhoshad's attention to him, and for a moment the man seemed surprised before his face softened into something a bit melancholy and guilty.

"Oh…I apologize," he said softly, letting his image fade back into the young man he had been before. "I thought you knew."

He _had_ known. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had known that he wasn't speaking to a normal person, a normal being, that there was something very different and not quite right about Rhoshad's presence. Still, he had simply assumed that he was someone kind of like Eiwyn, someone who was clearly alive and human but not entirely so—a magical being, maybe, or something like that. He had never once assumed that the voice in his head was the same kind as the other voices from the vale.

The person he was talking to…the man standing before him was a spirit, a ghost…a _soul_.

Rhoshad was dead and probably had been for quite some time.

Suddenly he didn't feel so good.

"…I think I need to sit down."

It was a lot to take in. He was used to dealing with magic and things of a more unusual nature, but this was something else entirely.

With a consenting nod and a wave of his hand, Rhoshad was able to pull a chair over from one of the nearby tables and quickly place it behind the warlock. Merlin immediately took a seat and sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down (he vaguely registered the fact that Rhoshad had somehow managed to move the chair with little more than a wave of his hand—making it disappear and then _reappear_—but he didn't have the energy to question it. Stranger things had happened, after all).

He ran a hand through his hair and gave a deep sigh, waiting for his heart to stop pounding and for his mind to register that _yes_, he was in the presence of a _ghost_. Despite how solid he appeared to be, Rhoshad wasn't alive. He wasn't sure how any of this was possible, but given where they were, he supposed that it shouldn't come as quite so big of a shock. The vale was bound by magic and filled with countless restless souls.

He just hadn't expected to actually be _talking_ to one.

"So…" he began, his voice shaking just a bit as he finally raised his head again. "You're dead?"

The smile he received wasn't as sad as he had thought it would be.

"I have been for a long time."

"Then how…why…?"

He wasn't sure exactly how to ask him without either sounding rude or like an idiot, but apparently he didn't need to elaborate on his horrifically vague question because Rhoshad seemed to know exactly what he was asking.

"You're able to see me because of your magic," he told him, and Merlin couldn't even muster the strength to be shocked that Rhoshad knew (because of course he did. The man could apparently read his thoughts, after all). "…And I'm able to remain here because of mine."

That, however, did spur a modicum of surprise.

"You have magic?" he asked softly, which earned him another soft smile in response.

"Yes, though I fear it's nowhere near as remarkable as yours. There have been other sorcerers over the years who have come here for one reason or another, but none of them were quite like you. You're the first person who has ever been able to hear me. To be honest, I wasn't even sure if I would be able to reach you beyond this room. I had failed with everyone else, so I didn't know if it was even possible to do so, but I still had to try."

"Why?" What was so special about him? It's not like he knew how to escape the vale, how to break the curse. His magic was powerful, but the enchantment was ancient and seemed to envelope the very land itself. He wouldn't even know where to begin trying to undo it.

"Because there's something different about you and your friends. You're not like the people who usually come here."

"How so?"

He was pretty sure he had heard that before, or something similar, at least. Hadn't Eiwyn said something along those lines back in that courtyard, something about how they were different?

"Most of them come here for foolish, selfish reasons—pride, curiosity, a need to take risks or to prove themselves—but you and your friends came here not for personal gain, but out of a desire to help."

Merlin was very tempted to tell him that that wasn't technically true, because he certainly hadn't wanted to come at all, but Rhoshad only graced him with a knowing look, one that spoke volumes without even needing a single word. Those eyes of his were clear and focused, and Merlin knew that his thoughts and perhaps even his heart were being read (or maybe they already had been), but unlike Eiwyn, there was no pain, no fear, no driving curiosity or a need to know. He didn't feel like he was being torn apart or stripped away like he had before; the eyes peering back at him were warm and kind instead of cold and calculating. There was absolutely nothing invasive or intruding about his presence.

"I know that you didn't want to come here," he began, "that you tried your hardest to get Prince Arthur to change his mind, but you should know that he chose to come here not out of pride or arrogance as you first believed, but out of a genuine wish to protect his people as well as those not his own. He's a good man—you all are. Not one of you has a selfish reason for being here. Unlike so many others, you all came for the _right_ reasons."

"How…how do you know all that?" He could understand how Rhoshad would know about _his_ thoughts and motives (there was a connection between them, a link of sorts that had been established from the moment he had entered the tower), but how could he possibly know Arthur's, or anyone else's for that matter? It was as if he had already taken the time to read all of them, but Merlin was certain that no one else had seen the man as of yet. If they had, they would have mentioned it.

When Eiwyn had read them, she had actually been looking at them, peering into their hearts. Surely with Rhoshad it would be the same…right?

"It's because this area falls under my influence," he said very matter-of-factly, as if that just explained everything when all it really did was leave the warlock even more confused than before. This was what they had been talking about earlier, back when Lancelot had interrupted them, and even though he had tried to muddle his way through it afterwards, he was no closer to understanding what it meant.

"You mentioned something about that before. What did you mean?"

If the older sorcerer felt even the slightest bit of exasperation at Merlin's lack of comprehension, he certainly didn't show it. That smile of his was both benevolent and patient, and the warlock couldn't help but wonder if that was a trait he had always possessed or if spending his afterlife as a wandering soul had just given him the patience of a saint.

"I apologize," Rhoshad said, turning his attention away for a moment as his eyes roamed the room. "It's not exactly easy to explain or comprehend, but this space, this tower, falls under my jurisdiction. Think of it like an extension of my being. I can feel and sense everything here—I know it as intimately as I know myself. Nothing can be hidden from me within this tower, and that includes everyone who sets foot within it. The moment you and your friends walked through that door, a connection was made. You essentially stepped into my very soul, and in doing so, you have bared your own to me.

"If I wanted to, I could read your heart, know every thought and secret—see your entire life and make it flash before your eyes. I have complete, unwavering control over this place, and therefore I can keep it hidden from even Eiwyn, no matter how powerful her influence is. For as long as you remain here, you'll be safe. Nothing will be able to reach you."

Once he was finished, Rhoshad merely grinned at him. _Grinned_, as if hadn't just finished telling the warlock that he was essentially an all-powerful, all-knowing being that had absolute control over everything around him. He was just standing there _smiling_, as if he believed that everything he had said wasn't at all anything to be concerned with, that Merlin had absolutely no reason whatsoever to fear him or worry about the safety of his friends.

…But the thing was, he really didn't. The fear and the doubt were crushed just as quickly as they arose, because deep down he knew that despite all the power he had, Rhoshad had no intention of using it for anything other than keeping his promise. He had given his word that they would be safe. He wasn't trying to invade their thoughts or unveil their deepest secrets even though he was more than capable of doing so. There was nothing selfish or unkind, not a shred of cruelty in the man before him. He could feel it, and therefore he had no reason to fear him.

Just because someone had power didn't mean they had to use it. He _knew_ that…better than anyone, perhaps.

…But there was still one thing he didn't understand.

"Rhoshad," he called, making sure he had the sorcerer's attention before asking the one question he needed an answer to. "Why did you save us?"

Rhoshad merely blinked a few times in confusion, as if he were having trouble understanding (and Merlin couldn't help but feel that _that_ expression was just utterly ridiculous on his face given what the man had _just _explained to him).

"I'm not sure I understand," he said. "Do I need a reason?"

"What? Well, _no_, but…maybe, I just—I don't understand why you did. What's the point? Whether we're in here or out there, it doesn't really change anything. We still can't _leave_."

"…No, you can't."

Merlin lowered his head and slumped forward in the chair. It was one thing to admit it to himself, but hearing it from someone else just made it seem all the more real. He had tried to remain positive, but after having his thoughts confirmed, he wasn't much in the mood for it. Therefore he completely missed the growing smile on Rhoshad's face.

"…But only because you lack what's necessary to do so."

The warlock snapped his head up, his eyes wide. He didn't want to get his hopes up—the situation seemed pretty impossible, after all—but at the same time he desperately wanted it to be true.

"What do you mean?" he asked, because he had been certain that there wasn't a way for them to leave. Eiwyn had said it herself that none of them had the means of breaking the enchantment, that they would be left to wander the vale, and yet Rhoshad was implying that there _was_ a way.

"The enchantment is…_difficult_ to break," the sorcerer said, choosing his words carefully. "Difficult, not impossible. Theoretically, anyone could break it—there's no unique skill, no special power required. You simply need to have an open heart that's capable of understanding, one that can weigh the consequences and make an unselfish choice. That's all that's needed."

_I've heard something like that before_. Back in the courtyard where they had found that strange staff and where Eiwyn had laid their souls bare, Lancelot had read the inscription engraved on the monument, one that spoke about an open heart and understanding. Rhoshad was basically saying the exact same thing, but unlike Eiwyn, he was implying that the means to leaving could be acquired, that a person didn't need to already possess them but merely needed to find them.

"You're talking about that monument in the courtyard, the one with that staff, right? It said something about an open heart, and…_wait_…" There was something he was forgetting, something right at the edge of his mind that he couldn't quite reach. He thought back to that day, retraced his memories to the point where they had found the monument with the staff, their one way of escaping the vale. He could almost hear Lancelot reading the engraving as they all stood around him, staring at the suspended staff wrapped in chains.

That staff in the courtyard… It had had a _name_.

He looked up at Rhoshad—a sorcerer, a ghost, a lost soul—as if seeing him for the first time, but Rhoshad didn't say anything. His grin fell into something much sadder, knowing, tainted with grief and regret. Merlin needed no confirmation to know that his suspicions were right. He should have noticed it sooner, should have thought of it the moment Lancelot mentioned that the name "Rhoshad" seemed familiar.

"_The staff of Rhoshad. Whosoever holds this staff will be granted power to lift the curse."_

"That staff," he began, unable to keep his voice from trembling a bit, "it's…"

"Yes."

He had so many questions, so many suspicions that he wasn't even sure where to begin.

"But why—I don't—you're…"

Thankfully Rhoshad took pity on him and answered the most direct question first.

"That staff once belonged to me a long, long time ago, back when the walls of this castle stood tall and proud and its halls were flooded with life. I came here to seek a better life for myself, to put my gifts to use, but…well…" He looked away from the warlock, his attention straying to the nearby window. "…I suppose things don't always turn out the way you expect them to."

Even though his gaze was focused on the world outside the castle, Merlin was fairly certain that what he saw wasn't the lifeless vale or the mist-covered sky. There was something far away in his eyes, the look of someone who could see into the past and watch it play across their mind. He wasn't looking at the world the way it was but how it had once been, reliving each moment and regretting every mistake. He had the eyes of someone who no longer knew how to look towards the future…but then again, he didn't really need to, not anymore. The dead had no reason to dream of the future, after all. Even though he hadn't passed on, there wasn't anything that Rhoshad could truly do aside from what he had already done. For all intents and purposes, his soul was bound to the tower. This was were he had remained from the moment he had died, left to watch as the world around him faded away.

Despite all his power, he was nothing more than a prisoner, and even though he hadn't once let it show, Merlin was still able to see the results of such solitary isolation. If he concentrated, he could feel it in the air itself, feel it seeping through the link between him and Rhoshad. The two of them were connected and had been ever since he had sought him out the previous day, and perhaps even before then. That was the nature of what Rhoshad had called his "influence." It was only because of his own magic that the connection went both ways, and what he could feel in Rhoshad was something he hadn't expected to find even though a part of him felt like he should have known it all along.

Loneliness, sorrow, regret, loss—grief so deep and so great that a person could drown in it.

It was all exactly the same as the vale.

What could have possibly happened to invoke so much pain on every living soul to have ever set foot upon these lands?

"…Rhoshad?" he called quietly, not wanting to startle the other sorcerer (though he got the feeling that was probably impossible given where they were). He didn't continue until those jade-colored eyes were once again focused on him. "You know, don't you, about what happened here. You know about the vale."

"…Yes, I do. I was here when this kingdom was still alive, and I remained long after it fell. I watched as an unimaginable force brought this land to its knees and shook the very foundations of the earth, and in their desperation and grief, I offered them their only chance for salvation…but somewhere along the way, I made a mistake."

"What kind of mistake? What happened?"

Rhoshad merely shook his head, and just as Merlin was about to start pleading for an answer, the sorcerer met his gaze with a soft smile. The sorrow he had been displaying before fled from his eyes, and they once more took on that slightly amused glint from earlier.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I _would_ like to tell you, but I fear it's too long of a story for the time we have left."

"Time we have…what do you—"

"_Merlin!"_

…Oh.

Apparently his friends were awake.

"_Merlin!"_

They were also still downstairs if the echo-like quality was anything to go by. He was actually kind of amazed that he could hear from so far away, though he was fairly certain that that fact said far more about Arthur's loud, pompous voice than his hearing capabilities. The prince was bellowing his name, and he sounded anything but happy.

Merlin sighed in exasperation and let his head fall into his hands as he heard his name get called for a third time (aside from Arthur's voice, he could faintly hear the others calling for him as well). Honestly, what was wrong with them?

"That dollophead," he muttered, much to his companion's amusement. "I _left_ a note."

"_Merlin!"_

Clearly fighting off the urge to laugh, Rhoshad looked at him and said, "I think you'd best go."

With a frustrated groan, Merlin got to his feet, because if he didn't do something soon, the consequences were likely to just get worse. He already knew he was going to be yelled at, but he had no desire to be smacked upside the head as well.

As he began to make his way towards the stairwell, a thought suddenly struck him, and he turned back to Rhoshad.

"You should come with me," he said, because all of them had questions, and if Rhoshad was there, it might even save him from being reprimanded too horribly. However, the sorcerer simply shook his head and remained exactly where he was. Merlin was about to ask him why, but he barely managed to open his mouth before Rhoshad gave him the answer.

"They won't be able to see me, Merlin," he said. "My magic might be enough to shield this place from Eiwyn, but it's not enough to make this form visible to your friends. If I had magic like yours, then perhaps it would be enough to let even those without it see me, but as it stands, they can't even hear my voice."

"But…"

"It's alright. I promise that you will get the answers you seek. For now, go on and lead them up here. Look through these books and learn what you can about the vale, and later I'll approach you again. I know you have a lot of questions, and some of the answers, unfortunately, lie solely with me. Just be patient, and go to your friends."

"…Alright."

He didn't really have much of a choice, did he?

"_Merlin!"_

Nope. No choice at all.

The warlock turned around and ran back towards the stairwell, and as soon as he reached it, he stood in the doorway and shouted as loud and with as much irritation as he could manage.

"I'm up here!"

For a moment he wasn't sure if they had been able to hear him, but a few seconds later, he heard the sound of multiple pairs of boots stomping up the stairwell.

"Damn it, Merlin!" he heard Arthur yell, and even though the prince was still a good distance away, he could already tell that he was seething. "Why can you never just _listen_? I told you _not_ to wander off again!"

He _knew_ that yelling back probably wasn't a good idea, because this time around Arthur actually sounded angry instead of worried (it was hard to tell the difference sometimes, but he was getting fairly good at it). However, he frankly didn't care.

"I _can_ take care of myself, you know, and I didn't just _wander_ off! I _told_ you what I was doing!"

"You did _not_!"

"I left you a note!"

"Oh, of _course_, how could I _possibly_ forget that scrap of paper with the words 'don't worry, I won't get lost' scribbled on it in what has to be the _worst_ handwriting I've ever seen?"

…Now that was simply uncalled for. His handwriting wasn't _that_ bad. Yes, he had been in a hurry, and sure, maybe he had smeared the ink a little, but that didn't mean that Arthur had to be such a condescending prat about it.

And he had definitely written more than _that_. It was true that he hadn't told them exactly where he was going, but he had said that he was going to take a look around. He was also pretty sure that he had included the words "overbearing" and "dollophead" in there somewhere, so clearly Arthur was just paraphrasing his message and making it out to be a lot less informative than it really was.

"What?" called Arthur, still using that sarcastic, arrogant tone. "Nothing left to say?"

By now he could see them coming up the stairs, Arthur in the lead, and he still looked rather mad, although he was obviously not as angry as he had been. He actually looked a bit smug at having rendered his servant speechless.

"…You're an overbearing prat."

Well, not _entirely_ speechless.

Merlin tried to glare at Arthur as he and the knights entered the room, but his attempt only seemed to make Arthur look even more self-satisfied than before (and no matter what anyone had to say about it, he definitely _wasn't_ pouting. He was a powerful warlock, and therefore he _didn't_ pout).

"Merlin," Gwaine greeted him with a smile, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Glad you're alright. You had us worried there."

The warlock rolled his eyes, much to the amusement of the knights, before heaving a defeated sigh.

"I'm fine, really," he said, looking to each one of them. "I told you not to worry."

"Well, given where we are, you can't really blame us."

"But we're _safe_ here."

"Be that as it may," began Arthur, looking somewhat angry again, "you shouldn't have gone off on your own. Even if this place is safe, you're more than capable of getting yourself into trouble. You are by far one of the most accident prone people I have ever met."

He wanted to say something, wanted to tell Arthur that the only reason he got into so much trouble was because he was constantly tagging along after _him_, but a soft whisper at the back of his mind stopped him.

_You should apologize, Merlin._

Rhoshad. He was talking to him again, but he was unfortunately telling him to do something that he really didn't want to.

_Why?_

_Because you made them worry._

It was such a simple answer, and as much as he wanted to deny it, to argue the point, he knew that it was nothing short of the truth. Rhoshad could read their hearts, after all. Nothing could be kept from him.

_They were all worried about you. They weren't sure how long you had been gone, whether you had gotten enough sleep or if you had woken up due to another nightmare. They want you safe and well, but they can't look after you if you're not there._

_I don't need to be looked after._

_No, perhaps not…but it doesn't change the fact that you scared them. They care about you, and for as long as you can, you should treasure that. Life is far too short to get caught up in such petty matters._

For a moment, Merlin let himself really look at the four knights in front of him, trying to see what Rhoshad obviously could. Despite the calm smile Elyan was wearing, the knowing look Lancelot had, the wide grin on Gwaine's face, and the anger on Arthur's…all of them looked undeniably relieved. They really had been worried about him, and not only because he hadn't been there.

They were simply relieved to see him _well_.

"…I'm sorry," he said, feeling a bit sheepish and a little guilty, because he really hadn't meant to make them worry. That was why he had left them a note, after all.

"What for?" asked Gwaine, his hand still placed firmly upon the warlock's shoulder.

"I didn't mean to make you worry." He made sure to address all of them, and he said it as earnestly as he could, because even though he _could_ take care of himself, they didn't all know that, and it also didn't change the fact that they had woken up with no idea where he was (and had he been in their place, he was certain he would have acted much the same).

The hand on his shoulder gave a short squeeze before Gwaine pulled away, a grin still on his face though one that was a bit more satisfied than before. Lancelot and Elyan also seemed rather pleased with the apology. Arthur was the only one who still didn't seem happy. Merlin had actually been expecting him to deny having been worried (because prince's aren't supposed to do things like get nervous or scared or worry about their servants), but instead he just heaved a sigh and fixed Merlin with a reprimanding scowl.

"Just don't disappear again, Merlin," he said. "I'll let it go this time since you clearly _tried_ to let us know, but I won't be so forgiving the next time, understood?"

Knowing he didn't have much of a choice in the matter, Merlin simply nodded and uttered a quick, "Of course, _sire_," and if it came out sounding just a touch sarcastic, well…just because he didn't have a choice didn't mean he couldn't be impertinent about it (and if the amused smirk on his face was anything to go by, Arthur clearly didn't mind).

With that cleared up, the knights all properly entered the room instead of lingering around the doorway and promptly froze after barely two steps. In many ways it was a testament to how focused they had been on their task of finding Merlin when the four of them finally took a good look around the room only for their jaws to practically drop in sheer astonishment. Clearly they hadn't noticed just what sort of room they were standing in (and Merlin probably would have been touched by the level of concern and dedication they had clearly had for him if not for the fact that he found the whole thing rather hilarious).

"Well…" began Gwaine, looking just a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of bookshelves in the room, "that certainly is a lot of books."

"That's one way to put it," said Elyan as his eyes darted from one side to the other.

"Merlin," called Lancelot, drawing the warlock's attention but not meeting his gaze, too busy observing their surroundings with a look of awe. "Do you know anything about this place?"

"No, not really," he answered while trying to fight down a grin. "But…things should go a _lot_ faster now that you're all here."

He walked right past them and headed over to the nearest bookshelf, fully aware that they were all staring at him now as he began to look at the titles of some of the books.

"What are you talking about?" asked Arthur, although something about the prince's tone told him that he already knew the answer.

"You heard me."

With no hesitation whatsoever, he pulled a few of the books off of the shelf and set them on a nearby table before looking up at the four knights, two of which who were looking at him with thinly veiled horror.

"You can't be serious," Gwaine muttered while taking another look at the very large and very daunting room. This time Merlin couldn't stop the grin that stretched across his face.

He was going to thoroughly enjoy this.

"Well, come _on_, don't just stand there," he said, taking a seat in front of his little mountain of books and flipping one open to the very first page. "We've got a _lot_ of work to do."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well, there we are :) One more week down. What did you think? There's still quite a bit of plot to go through (the next few chapters will be full of it), but I hope I was able to answer a few things and make everyone wonder about others. I'm having a lot of fun with this, and I hope I've been able to keep it interesting :)

Like I said, I'll definitely respond to the reviews for this week, and I'm sorry again that I ran out of time to do all of them for the last chapter. I want to thank everyone though who has reviewed, favorited, and alerted as well as anyone who is reading. Thank you so much, and I hope you're enjoying the story :)

As always, please feel free to drop a review. I look forward to them like candy, and they always make my week just a bit brighter (and give me something to look forward to after work :)

Anyway, that's all for now. Until next week!


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** Hello :) I bring you another chapter, and this one is rather dialogue heavy yet again. These chapters are giving me a bit of trouble, though that's mostly my fault. The revealing of the plot is unraveling a lot more differently than I had originally intended...but that's probably because I hadn't actually had a plan for it. I knew what needed to be discussed, but I had never actually decided on the "how" portion for some of it, so hopefully what I'm doing turns out okay :) There's lots of Merlin's POV in this chapter since a lot of the plot gets revealed to him first (that's what happens when you're the main character :)

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language. Better safe than sorry, ne?  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin :)

So like I said, lots of dialogue and lots more plot, although I think I probably still created more questions than I answered, but fear not, because all shall be revealed soon. There will probably be one or two more chapters dealing with the backstory stuff, and then from there it's a downward spiral to the ending. We still have to get to the angsty scene from the prologue, after all :)

As always, it's really late at night, and this time around I more or less wrote and proofread this chapter in the last 8 hours, so I imagine there's probably a few mistakes this time. Please point any out that you see and I shall fix them :)

Onward!

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 21<p>

Despite the fact that it was near impossible to tell the time of day from within the vale, Merlin was certain that they had been at it for _hours_ by now, and still they hadn't found anything useful. They were surrounded by books of all kinds, and yet every one he picked up was of no use to him. Many of them were books similar to the kinds that Gaius owned, and even though quite a few of them were rather interesting, he didn't have time to sit and read something that wasn't about the vale.

After dividing up and each choosing a section of the room to tackle, the five of them had remained separated and focused on their task, the only sounds amongst them being the turning of pages and the scraping of wood every time one of them got up to find another book. For the most part they didn't talk, and even though it made him wonder from time to time (he trusted Lancelot and Elyan to stay on task, and perhaps Arthur given the situation, but Gwaine was another matter entirely), he wasn't about to break the silence amongst them. He was also far too absorbed in his own search, especially since he knew a bit more about what they were dealing with than the rest of them did.

Unfortunately, he still didn't seem to know enough to be able to find what they were looking for…and a certain wandering spirit wasn't helping him any.

For the last hour or so, Rhoshad had been roving around (he had initially lost sight of him after the knights had arrived), but he wasn't doing anything helpful. There were no comments, no helpful hints, no talking of any kind whatsoever. Instead he seemed perfectly content to simply observe, which wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't chosen to stand directly behind the warlock and peer over his shoulder.

Merlin closed yet another book with a resounding thud and fought the urge to let his head hit the table.

"Do you have to keep…_hovering_ like that?" he whispered in a hiss, casting just a quick glance over his shoulder.

"Does it bother you?" Rhoshad asked, sounding genuinely curious, which actually just frustrated the warlock more. He couldn't tell if the man honestly wanted an answer or if he was simply amusing himself. Despite being dead—and probably for more than a hundred years or so—he hadn't lost his sense of humor (or his sarcasm).

"Yes, actually, it does."

"…I can't imagine why."

This time he almost did hit his head against the table, but instead he simply dropped it onto his arms and heaved a sigh.

"Because even though you're right there, I can't openly talk to you without the risk of someone hearing me, and I can't imagine that going over too well."

"You could just explain it to them, you know."

"…I really can't see that going over any better." He wasn't so concerned about the knights—Lancelot would believe him, and Elyan probably would as well, but Gwaine wasn't exactly superstitious—it could honestly go either way with him. No, Arthur was his real concern. He honestly couldn't see the prince believing him. Magic was one thing. Ghosts were another matter entirely, and even though Arthur had believed him about the voices in the vale, he wasn't sure if that same generosity would be extended towards a spirit like Rhoshad.

Arthur already thought he was an idiot. He didn't want to give him any more reasons to think that there was something off about him.

"…You're a bit of a pessimist, aren't you."

With another sigh, Merlin sat up straight once more and was about to offer a retort when Elyan suddenly came around the corner of one of the bookshelves. The warlock immediately snapped his mouth shut and prayed that the knight hadn't been able to hear him. He'd been keeping his voice down, but the room _was_ very quiet. He was going to have to be a bit more careful when addressing Rhoshad from now on.

"Having any luck?" Elyan asked, shifting the small stack of books in his arms.

"Not really."

"I fear we're not having much either. I'm pretty sure Gwaine doesn't know how to focus long enough to actually find anything useful, and I think that some of these books are starting to make Arthur a bit uncomfortable."

"Why?" he asked, forcing down the urge to make a comment about Arthur and reading (he knew the prince well enough to know that he never read anything that he didn't have to. He very rarely showed enough interest in something to actually sit down and research it). It was rather obvious though from the quiet chuckle behind him that Rhoshad knew exactly what he had intended to say.

"A lot of them deal with magic," Elyan told him, keeping his voice down so that he wouldn't be overheard. "I know that Uther had a lot of those kinds of books burned, and judging by the glare he was giving them, I imagine that Arthur would like to do the same."

Merlin couldn't help but wince, feeling just the slightest bit guilty and perhaps a little hurt as well. He had known that some of the books would likely involve magic—he had stumbled upon a few of them himself—but he hadn't really been thinking about it at the time. Even though they weren't in Camelot and therefore its laws didn't apply, that didn't mean that Arthur would be any more tolerant than he usually was when it came to magic. Instead it would probably just make him irritated. Aside from Lancelot, none of them harbored any trust towards magic.

In the end, that was just one more reason why he didn't want to mention Rhoshad to any of them, at least not yet. A great deal of magic was involved, not to mention that the man was a sorcerer himself. Even if the rest of them _could_ see him, there was no guarantee that they would be willing to trust him or even bother to listen to him. Merlin also wasn't in the mood to be yelled at by Arthur about trusting a sorcerer so easily. Those kinds of conversations always hurt, and they probably always would. It just wasn't something he could ever bring himself to get used to, because every time his friend would denounce magic or claim that it was evil, he couldn't help but feel like each and every word was aimed at him (and he would be reminded once more, over and over, about every lie he had told and everything he kept hidden).

He hated it, but there was nothing he could do. Perhaps one day things would be different, but until then he would simply have to play his part.

"…It's all a bit strange though."

Merlin quickly pulled himself out of his thoughts and back into the conversation, giving Elyan a confused glance (he was pretty sure he had missed something, but he wasn't about to let on that he had).

"What is?" he asked.

"These books look like they've been well kept. Some of them even look as good as new, but I'm pretty sure that most of them are hundreds of years old."

"Hundreds? What makes you think that?"

"Well, some of the books I've found had maps drawn in. Most of them were the same, and not one of them was familiar. I didn't recognize any of the kingdoms. Some of the other books as well mentioned creatures and plants that I've never even heard of, much less seen. The only explanation I could come up with was that this archive is hundreds of years old—old enough that no one outside of this castle would have the knowledge that's available here."

That…actually made a lot of sense. They had all known that the castle was old. In fact, it was apparently old enough that not even Gaius had been able to find any mention of it in his vast supply of resources. The kingdom was old enough that it had been removed completely from all known sources, which meant that it was old enough to have been forgotten. They weren't just talking about just one or even two hundred years but _hundreds_.

Just how old _was_ the vale? How long had all of those souls been trapped like that, unable to move on?

"Far too long," was the answer he got from Rhoshad, and he couldn't help but be startled (he had forgotten the sorcerer was still there). "Long enough to make anyone wish for an end, even if it were an absolute one."

"Merlin, are you alright?" asked Elyan, having taken notice of the way he had tensed upon hearing Rhoshad's voice.

"I'm fine," he said, trying to act like nothing abnormal had happened. "I was just thinking."

The warlock took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh as he glanced at his stack of books. Somewhere in the room was a book that would have some answers, that would give them at least one part of the puzzle. They just had to keep looking.

"The answers have to be here somewhere," he stated confidently as he grabbed another book and flipped it open. "I know they do."

"We'll keep looking. None of us are going to give up that easily."

Elyan offered him an encouraging smile before walking off back to his own section of books, leaving Merlin by himself once more…sort of. He wasn't entirely sure if a ghost counted as company or not.

"…That's a bit rude, don't you think."

"Will you _please_ stop reading my mind?"

"I'm sorry, but it's hard not to. I told you that a connection was made when you entered this room, and because of your magic, it's a great deal stronger than it is with your friends. Even if I tried, I doubt I'd be able to block you out completely."

"Great…"

With one final sigh and more than a little internal grumbling, Merlin threw himself back into his research with Rhoshad once again peering over his shoulder.

* * *

><p>"…Well, it seems that some of you are a bit less studious than others."<p>

It had been at least another couple of hours since the last time he had heard anyone's voice other than his own (and even then he had only heard it in his head as he went through book after book), and the broken silence was enough to make him jump before he turned around in his chair to look at Rhoshad. The spirit had a slightly amused smile on his face.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, remembering at the last moment that he was supposed to be keeping his voice down.

"Your friend Gwaine seems to find my archive rather dull. He's been nodding off every now and then for the past hour."

This time Merlin _did_ let his head hit the table, groaning in exasperation and perhaps a bit of frustration as well. They had been looking for _hours_, and still nothing. The five of them were getting nowhere fast, and they didn't have time to search the entire room. They needed to find answers, and they needed them soon. Perhaps if they could figure out exactly what had happened to the kingdom, they'd be able to figure out how to reach the staff in the courtyard and use it to escape.

Unfortunately, they actually had to _find_ the information first. That wouldn't have bothered him so much if not for the fact that the answer to all their questions was standing _right behind him_ but didn't seem inclined to offer his knowledge, only his commentary.

"Rhoshad…" he began, and he personally no longer cared if his voice came out just a bit whiny, "can't you just _tell_ me which book to read?"

"That would depend on what it is you'd like to know."

"Anything. Something, I don't really care. I just want to know why you can't just tell me what I want to know."

"Sometimes it's better to see things for yourself. That applies to learning as well."

Merlin just sighed and kept his head against the table, giving in to the urge to rest. He was getting tired, and every failed attempt—every dead end—made him feel just a little bit more discouraged each time. There were thousands upon thousands of books, and even if they were choosing each one carefully, it didn't change the fact that there were just too many for only five people to cover. They didn't even know _what_ they were supposed to be looking for.

With his head resting on the table, Merlin was unaware of the sympathetic stare he was being sent. He also didn't notice as Rhoshad vanished for a moment before returning with a single book in his hands. The warlock did however notice as said book was dropped onto the table, shaking it enough to disturb him from his rest. He glanced at it before pulling it closer and taking a look at the title.

"What's this? 'The Royal Family of Haulden…?'" His expression quickly fell into one of confusion. Why this book? What did it have to do with anything? "Rhoshad, what…?"

Merlin turned around to face the sorcerer, but his question died off when he found that no one was there. Rhoshad had vanished, leaving him on his own, and a quick look around didn't give him any clues as to where the man had gone. It seemed he really was by himself this time.

The warlock turned his attention back to the book that had been placed before him, wondering once more what it could possibly have in it that would be important enough to warrant reading it. However, he _would_ take a look. After all, Rhoshad wouldn't have given it to him if there wasn't something in it that he needed to know, so without further ado, he flipped open the cover and began to search.

For the most part he mainly just skimmed the writing and instead focused on the pictures. They were of different people and families, and each little portrait became more and more detailed as he went along. The further he got, the more confused he became, because as far as he could tell, there wasn't a single thing in the book that had anything to do with the vale. He had no idea how any of it could possibly be useful to him, but he stuck with it anyway and kept turning the pages until he reached the last section of the book. In his haste he nearly skipped over a few of the pages, but a single glimpse of the final portrait was more than enough to completely draw him in.

At first he believed that he must have been mistaken, but upon closer inspection he realized that it couldn't possibly be a mere coincidence. When he finally read the small inscription beneath the picture, he was certain that he had finally found an answer.

The portrait in the final section of the book was of three people—a king, a queen, and their daughter. They were the last recorded royal family of the kingdom of Haulden.

The young princess was a delicate girl with long ashen hair, pale skin, and eyes like faded gold. Her name was Eiwyn.

Just like that it clicked.

They were in the kingdom of Haulden.

Merlin quickly set the book aside and got up, heading for the nearest bookshelf. Now that he knew what to look for, it was easy to find books that could potentially prove useful. He went from shelf to shelf and grabbed anything and everything that had to do with the kingdom including documentations and journals. Once he had gathered a decent amount, he dragged them back to his table and dove in, searching for anything that mentioned the kingdom's history or gave more information about its final ruling family.

He was thoroughly engrossed in his third book when he felt a presence slowly edging in behind him. He didn't even need to look to know who it was.

"Having a bit more luck now?" Rhoshad asked even though he obviously knew the answer.

"Yes." He set down his book for a moment and pulled his attention away even though his eyes never left the page. "This kingdom was Haulden, right?"

"That's right."

"And Eiwyn…she was a princess, wasn't she, and the last ruler of the kingdom. I couldn't find another family after hers."

"Yes. You're right on all accounts. Eiwyn was an only child, the last successor to the throne of Haulden, and much like your prince, she was forced into the role of regent at a young age. Her parents fell ill, and with the kingdom in turmoil, there was no one else to turn to and no one better suited for the role. The people trusted her and were willing to place their lives in her hands…quite literally, in fact."

Merlin finally pulled himself away from the book and gave his full attention to Rhoshad. He knew it was a bit risky to get involved in a conversation at the moment, especially since no one had come to check on him in a while (whenever any of them needed to stretch their legs, they would always check in with everyone else to see how things were going, and he was probably due for a visit any time now).

However, he had finally found some answers, and no matter how small they seemed, he wasn't about to let go now that he actually had something to go on. There was no way he would be able to simply ignore what Rhoshad had just told him.

"What do you mean?" he asked, and he hoped with everything he had that he wasn't going to be brushed off with that whole "it's a long story" lark again. He was pretty sure he would end up grabbing and shaking the man if that was his reply (assuming he _could_ grab him. Rhoshad could touch things that were in the room, but he was still technically a ghost).

"I mean exactly what I said. The people of Haulden made the choice to entrust their lives to Eiwyn. They had such faith in her and she such love for them that together they made a choice, regardless of the pain it would bring. I'm a bit surprised that you don't already know this. After all, you're able to hear them."

"Them?"

"The voices. The people of Haulden. Their souls inhabit the vale, and because they are her people, Eiwyn remains here as their caretaker. Their lives are her responsibility, and they have been for hundreds of years."

_Hundreds of years…_

They had all been trapped in the vale for hundreds of years.

Merlin wasn't sure what to think—he could scarcely wrap his mind around it. He _tried_ to take it all in, to process what he was being told, but the questions were piling up far more rapidly than the answers, and he wasn't sure what to ask about first, because Rhoshad… He was implying that it had all come down to a choice. He was basically saying that the vale was made the way it was for a reason, that all of them had _chosen_ this.

"You…are you telling me that they _wanted_ this?"

Why would anyone choose to spend an eternity trapped between life and death, unable to move on and lost in never-ending grief?

"It was never a matter of want," Rhoshad told him, his voice taking on a sad tone as he cast his eyes to the floor. "Let me ask you something. If you had to make the choice between losing your life and losing your soul, which would you choose?"

It was a simple question, one that didn't bear thinking about. To lose your life was to die, but to lose your soul was to lose your existence, to fade away into nothing. It was a fate far worse than death.

"My life," he said, without hesitation, and Rhoshad nodded in agreement.

"And how far would you be willing to go if those were your only options?"

"As far as I had to."

The sorcerer raised his head, his eyes boring into Merlin's own as if what he was about to say was what everything else was hinged upon.

"…Then why would you expect anyone else to do differently?"

"…I…"

There was nothing he could say, nothing that would be adequate, and when those words fully sunk in, he found himself at a complete loss as everything began adding up. The vale, the voices, all the emotions he had been able to feel and the magic permeating the air… He finally understood. He had been wrong before, they all had. They had assumed that the enchantment placed on the vale was a curse of some kind, meant to trap and detain, but that wasn't it at all. Quite the opposite, really.

It was meant to _protect_.

He had no idea how it worked or what it was truly for, but he knew that his newfound realization was the right one. The people of Haulden had been forced to make a choice: to give up their lives or lose their souls. Something terrible had happened to the kingdom, something he could scarcely imagine, and so they had taken the only road available to them, choosing a life of imprisonment, left to suffer in their loss and grief, because anything was better than being erased, than ceasing to exist (he couldn't fathom it, the thought of fading into nothing, of simply being gone from every level of existence).

All of those people were still trapped, waiting for the right time to come, waiting to be set free after having suffered so much so that they could move on. They had been waiting for hundreds of years, knowing there was a way to break the enchantment but unable to do anything about it. So far no one had been able to remove the staff from the courtyard and use it to save them…but why? Surely someone would have wandered into the vale in all those years with the ability to use it. Rhoshad had told him before that _most_ of the people who came to the vale came for selfish reasons, but he hadn't said that all of them did. Could there have been people at one time or another who could have broken the enchantment, and if so, then why hadn't they? What had stopped them?

In some ways the answer he found was as simple as it was complicated.

Eiwyn. It had to be. There was no one else.

But _why_?

"…Rhoshad?"

"Hmm? What is it?"

He couldn't think of another way to ask, so he decided to just be blunt.

"What is Eiwyn, exactly?" She wasn't like the voices, the lost souls, but she was also different from Rhoshad.

The answer he got wasn't the one he had expected.

"She's human, just like you."

"…What? But that's…she _can't_ be…" A mere human wasn't capable of half the things she was, and if she were only a human (not a sorceress, not a ghost, because he knew Rhoshad well enough by now to know he would have specified if either one had been the case), then there was no way she could still be alive. It was impossible.

"I know that you all view her as some sort of magical creature or a lost soul," began Rhoshad, "but she is nothing more than a human girl with borrowed magic. It's only because her influence encompasses the entire vale that she seems to be so much more than she is."

"Influence…? Wait, are you saying that she's connected to the vale the same way that you are to this tower?" He could remember something like that being implied during their first conversation about influence, back when he hadn't been able to understand what it was. Now that he knew, he couldn't stop himself from shaking a bit at the sheer thought of what that entailed.

"Yes, though I fear her level of control is far beyond mine. Even back when I was alive, her power was still greater. The way I am now, I lack the strength to even reach her."

"Wait, so…so Eiwyn is still _alive_?" He needed an answer, because it had been bothering him for a while now, and he just wanted Rhoshad to give him a straight answer so he could stop wondering.

"Yes. It's part of the enchantment."

"So then she could _break_ the spell, right? If she has control over the vale, then she could lift it."

"…Yes."

It was minute, almost imperceptible, but something in Rhoshad changed with that small admission. His eyes dimmed, his body tensed, and the air around him almost seemed to grow cold, filling with an emotion he knew all too well.

Regret.

"Then why hasn't she?"

He didn't answer. The sorcerer merely stared at the wooden floor beneath him, and all the while Merlin could feel the air growing heavier and heavier until he was certain he could see the weight bearing down on those shoulders. There was sorrow and guilt, loss and anxiety, but more than anything else was that sense of regret.

There was something he was still missing, something important.

"Rhoshad?"

"…I'm sorry. It's complicated."

When he raised his head, their eyes met for only a brief moment before he glanced to a spot just beyond the warlock. Merlin was about to question him and was just opening his mouth when the sound of a familiar voice had him turning around just in time to see _Arthur_ of all people come around the corner.

The prince didn't say anything at first, but he didn't really need to. The look on his face spoke volumes. He was staring at the warlock with a great deal of suspicion, his eyes darting around the small area rather discreetly, and Merlin immediately knew that he hadn't done a good enough job of keeping his voice down. It was going to take some quick thinking, a lot of deflecting, and a little bit of luck to get him out of this one.

"Merlin, what are you doing over here?" Arthur asked him, speaking carefully and cautiously as if he were talking to a small child (or an idiot with a mental affliction).

"Nothing."

"It sounded like you were talking to someone."

"I'm talking to you."

"That isn't what I meant, and you know it."

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, there isn't anyone here, so obviously I wasn't talking to anyone."

"_Mer_lin…"

"Are you sure you're not just hearing things, sire? I mean, it's understandable, really. You've had a long day, so no one would blame you if you were."

The suspicious scowl on the prince's face very quickly became a glare, and without another word, Arthur turned around and stocked off. Merlin waited until he could no longer hear him stomping (because he was, no matter what he had to say about it) before releasing a deep, relieved sigh and slumping down in his chair.

Due to the pompous distraction that was Camelot's crowned prince, Merlin had almost forgotten about the ghost standing behind him, one who no longer seemed to be lost in his own torment but instead was musing quietly to himself.

"I guess you were right, Merlin."

"About what?" he asked, because he was pretty sure he no longer knew what they were talking about.

"He really _would_ think you're a bit off if he found out you were talking to a ghost."

"He _already_ thinks I'm a bit off." He figured it was probably best not to mention that sometimes he thought he might be too, but judging by the laughter coming from behind him, Rhoshad already knew.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until late in the afternoon, going into evening, that Merlin finally decided that he was done reading. He hadn't been able to find anything new or useful, though he got the feeling that part of the reason was because he had spent most of his time mulling over what he had already learned, trying to cement it into his mind and piece together the information into something that could help him.<p>

Unfortunately, he was still missing a lot of pieces. There was just too much that he still didn't know.

The other problem he was having was deciding what, when, and how to share what he had found out. This time around he wasn't going to keep any of them in the dark. They all had a right to know the truth, and it was important for them all to understand just what the vale was. Now that he knew, he couldn't stand the thought of them continuing to view it all as something malicious. He _wanted_ them to understand, but he honestly had no idea where to even begin. He also wasn't sure how to get around the fact that his information had mostly come from a _ghost_—and not just any ghost either, but a sorcerer who had been dead for hundreds of years.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find a way around it. Lying wouldn't work. There was no way they'd believe him if he told them that he had simply been able to figure it out, and if he said that he had found it in a book, they would ask him to show it to them. Any lie he told would either be seen through or exposed.

If only the four of them could see Rhoshad, or at the very least hear him. Then all his problems would be solved.

"Rhoshad," he began, gaining the sorcerer's attention and drawing it away from the window he had been peering out of, "isn't there _some_ way for them to see you or at least hear you?"

"I told you, my magic isn't strong enough for something like that."

Merlin just heaved a deep sigh and slumped forward onto the table. He was just getting ready to accept his failure at finding an easy solution and simply acknowledge the fact that his life would never be fair when a thought suddenly struck him.

Rhoshad had claimed that _his_ magic wasn't strong enough. He hadn't said anything about Merlin's.

"What if…what if you borrowed mine?"

When all his question earned him was a confused stare, he quickly elaborated.

"You said that a connection had been made between us, so couldn't we somehow use that to let you borrow some of my magic?"

"I…I suppose that would be possible. Usually the connection is only supposed to work on an emotional level, though I guess I've never actually tried it with magic before…but Merlin, it would likely be quite taxing on you. It probably wouldn't threaten your life, but it _will_ drain you. Your magic may be vast, but it is not infinite."

"I know, but I'm willing to try. I want them to know."

For a long while Rhoshad didn't say anything. He looked to be deep in thought, his brow furrowed as he processed Merlin's request. The warlock wasn't sure why he needed so much time to think it over, but he kept quiet and allowed the sorcerer the time he needed. He couldn't help but wonder though if there was something Rhoshad was worried about, something that could potentially go wrong if they were to try it (and a lot probably could, because nothing was ever easy, but Merlin had long since accepted that that's simply the way his life was).

In the end though, his decision was obvious. Whatever reservations he had about trying it were pushed back behind a pair of determined jade eyes. This was for the best.

They _had_ to know.

"Alright, Merlin. We'll try it."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well, there we are :) One more chapter down. Hopefully it was worth the wait, and hopefully it answered a few questions. The next chapter will have even more answers and will include one of the largest bits of dialogue that I have ever written (I've had the chapter planned for a long while, and now I just need to write it :)

Anyways, thank you to everyone who reviewed. I was able to get through all of my responses this week. Please feel free to comment, and always feel free to be honest with your opinions. I welcome honesty (just so long as you don't attack me simply because my perspective is different from yours :) Also thank you to everyone who has favorited and alerted as well as those who are simply here to read. Thank you so much!

**Review Responses:** As always, I like responding to everyone, and since I answered all the rest of the reviews for the last chapter, I'll respond to the ones I couldn't PM here :)

MerlinFan: Thank you! Glad you liked it :) Yes, getting around Eiwyn is definitely going to be a bit of a problem for them (I'm actually still sort of working out that bit myself. I'm not good at having plans). I always have a lot of fun getting to write the knights when they're worried about Merlin (especially Arthur since he's crap at showing he cares). Such fun, and there shall definitely be a bit more of it before we're done :)

Xander: Thanks for the review :) I know I've said this before (somewhere), but I do apreciate an honest opinion even if it doesn't necessarily line up with mine. We're all entitled to one, after all, and I've long since stopped allowing it to bother me :) I personally don't feel like I've pushed any limits _too_ far. Circumstances have a lot to do with a person's actions and reactions, and given the situation I put them all in and what I've already put them through, I just don't personally feel that Arthur is OOC. He does care (season 4 has proof enough of that) even if he is crap at showing it sometimes.

asdf: Thank you for the review :) I'm just glad you enjoyed the chapter. I hope I can continue to do them all justice in the chapters to come. I rather adore these characters (and the whole series in general), and it's great fun getting to write them all :) Especially when I get to put them in difficult situations. It just makes it all that much more interesting :)

Well, thanks everyone for reading. Until next week :)


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N:** It's late, and I don't have time to try and be witty. I just wanted to say thank you for all the wonderful reviews. I definitely wasn't expecting it, especially since last chapter wasn't one of my favorites. Also, I was wrong. It turns out the plot related dialogue gave me absolutely no trouble whatsoever :) Getting there, however, did.

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language. Better safe than sorry, ne?  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin :)

This was proof read very quickly, so hopefully there aren't too many errors.

Also, I feel the need to say this again (it was in two A/Ns previously), but I really have no intention of doing a magic reveal in this fic. It was never part of my plan, and it would ruin the dynamic I want for this story :) So I'm sorry to all who were hoping for it, but this fic will be without one, and I don't plan on changing my mind.

Onward!

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 22<p>

Merlin was almost certain that this would work—the keyword being almost. After a quiet discussion with Rhoshad, they had been able to come up with a plan that would hopefully not only allow the knights to see the sorcerer but that wouldn't involve Merlin revealing that he had magic. After all, it's not like they had to tell the knights _how_ it worked, and if they asked, Rhoshad could just come up with something. Merlin would let _him_ deal with it.

Yes, surely that would work.

"I'm glad to see you have such confidence in me," the spirit said, and Merlin didn't even need to hear it in his voice to know that the statement was just a touch sarcastic despite the pleasant smile on the man's face. He had half a mind to give some sort of retort, but he knew better than to address the ghost out loud when the knights were only a few feet away.

After spending most of their day in the library and not finding out much about the vale, they had all decided to take a break and have something to eat. It was just as well, because Merlin needed them all to be in the same place anyway, and it would be better to break the news to them after they had relaxed for a bit (especially Arthur, because the prince had almost caught him _again_ talking to Rhoshad and had been shooting him suspicious looks ever since).

All throughout their meal, the warlock had remained rather quiet, going over what he needed to say in order to hopefully make his friends believe him, and all the while Rhoshad had been standing there adding his own comments. Apparently he had come to the decision that not only was Merlin a pessimist, but he was also a terrible liar who worried far too much. Once more he had had to refrain from a verbal response, but the scowl that had formed on his face had earned him a few questions nonetheless.

For a while there, Arthur hadn't been the only one giving him strange looks.

Now that everyone was fed and rested, he figured that he may as well get the hardest part over with. Even though they had yet to actually try it, he was pretty sure that sharing his magic with Rhoshad wouldn't be that difficult (Rhoshad would be doing most of the real work, after all). No, the difficult part would be getting the knights to believe that there was a ghost in their presence. He got the feeling that suddenly making Rhoshad appear out of thin air wouldn't be the greatest idea (although he couldn't help but entertain himself with the thought of their expressions if he _were_ to just suddenly pop out of nowhere).

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he began thinking of the best way to get their attention without sounding as uncomfortable as he felt, but in the end he didn't need to bother. Gwaine unknowingly saved him the trouble.

"You alright, Merlin?" he asked, and the warlock raised his head only to realize that all of them were watching him and probably had been for a while. True, he had been quiet ever since they had finished eating, choosing to stand off to the side against one of the pillars while the rest of them conversed (or arm wrestled in Gwaine and Elyan's case). Apparently they had all noticed his silence.

"The fact that you look a bit pale and keep biting at your lip aren't helping much either," Rhoshad pointed out (unhelpfully).

The warlock heaved a sigh before meeting the worried gaze of his friends. It was now or never.

"I'm fine, it's just…" He took one more deep breath, hoped for the best, and went for it. "There's something I need to tell you."

"What is it?" asked Arthur as he leaned back against the table next to where Elyan was sitting, arms crossed and that look full of suspicion still on his face.

"It's, well…it's sort of about the vale."

That quickly earned him everyone's complete and undivided attention, their expressions all falling into something grim and serious. The sudden change honestly surprised him a bit. He wasn't used to making statements like that and actually being taken seriously right away. Usually when he tried to tell Arthur something, he was met with impatience or exasperation…or blatant disbelief. It was sort of nice having them all believing and anticipating what he had to say (he was pretty sure the exasperation would come later though. He wasn't holding out much hope for anything else).

"So you were able to find something," said Elyan.

"Yes…no—well, maybe, it's… I didn't exactly _find_ it…"

"Merlin, just tell us," Arthur demanded, already losing his patience. It certainly hadn't taken long.

"It's complicated…"

"Then _un_-complicate it."

Merlin sighed and did his best to ignore the amused ghost standing beside him who had chosen to comment on the fact that he wasn't very good at this. Just to spite him, the warlock put on a scowl and began his explanation at the most logical place he could think of.

"Do you remember how I told you that I can hear voices in the vale? Well, for a while now, I've been talking to one of them."

"Talking?"

"I thought you said that there weren't actual words," Elyan commented, and Merlin couldn't help but feel a bit happy that someone had been paying enough attention to remember something like that.

"There usually aren't, but it's different with him. I sort of thought I was just hearing things at first, but he's been helping me ever since we encountered Eiwyn in that courtyard. He's the reason we're safe right now. He led me to this tower."

"He?"

"Yes. His name is Rhoshad."

"…Merlin," began Gwaine, and the warlock immediately didn't like the careful way the knight was speaking. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure you told us that the voices you could hear were the people who had died in the vale."

"Yes…?"

When the knight simply looked at him expectantly, Merlin wasn't sure what he was waiting for, but it didn't take long before Arthur and Elyan were also giving him that odd look. Lancelot was the only one who didn't seem bothered, and Merlin chalked that up to the fact that he had already told Lancelot about Rhoshad, so none of this was new to him. However, Merlin still wasn't entirely sure why they were looking at him so strangely.

"…Well, I guess you were right, Merlin," said Rhoshad. "They really aren't the superstitious types, are they."

…Oh.

_That's_ why they were looking at him oddly. He had just more or less implied that he had been talking to a _ghost_.

"Look," he began, "I _know_ it sounds a bit mad, but I'm telling the truth."

"So then the voice you've been hearing…?"

"Yes. Rhoshad, he's…" He took a beep breath and just blurted it right out. "He's a ghost."

While being enveloped by the dead silence that had suddenly fallen over the room, Merlin couldn't help but realize that this wasn't going at all the way he had wanted it to. Strangely enough, it had all sounded better in his head. Maybe he would have been better off just lending Rhoshad his magic and making him appear in front of them without any explanation whatsoever. It certainly would have saved him from all the awkward looks he was getting and the equally awkward silence.

"…A ghost," Arthur stated, and it was more than obvious that the prince didn't believe him.

"I am telling the truth."

"What did you say his name was again?" asked Gwaine.

"Rhoshad."

Gwaine rubbed his hand back and forth over his mouth, looking to be deep in thought (or as deep in thought as someone like Gwaine could be).

"I feel like I've heard that name before," he said thoughtfully, and Merlin immediately took the opportunity that his friend had given him.

"You have. We all have."

"When?"

"In that courtyard, the one with the staff and the monument."

"The staff of Rhoshad…" Lancelot whispered in dawning realization, his eyes meeting Merlin's from where he was standing off to the side. The warlock nodded in response and watched as the rest of them allowed the information to sink in as well, their eyes widening a bit in surprise.

"I've been talking to him about the vale," Merlin continued. "Usually I could only hear him in here." He pointed towards his head. "But ever since we entered this tower, I've been able to actually talk to him. I should probably mention that I can see him too."

The warlock rubbed the back of his head a bit sheepishly, a small grin on his face as he looked over his friends. They were actually taking this all a bit better than he had expected. He'd been anticipating a lot more questions and perhaps a few accusations as well, but so far he'd been able to avoid all the really uncomfortable ones. He also hadn't had to lie to them…yet.

But of course, Arthur being Arthur, he had to go and ask the one question Merlin really didn't want to answer.

"How?" he demanded, once more reverting to the haughty prince that he was.

"…How what?"

"How is it that you can see him? If there really is a ghost in this tower, then why is it just you? Why can't we see him as well?"

"I…well…"

He needed to come up with an answer, one that wouldn't sound like he was avoiding the question. He _knew_ why he was the only one, but it wasn't something he could tell them. He had been doing so well telling them the truth for a change, but now he was going to have to lie again.

"I think that is has something to do with my awareness," he told them, using Eiwyn's word to describe his sixth sense. "Rhoshad probably has something to do with it as well. He's…different from the other voices in the vale."

He risked a glance to his right where Rhoshad was still standing, watching him with thinly veiled amusement. He was actually enjoying the whole thing. Apparently he found Merlin's floundering as he tried to explain the situation funny. He couldn't help but glare just a bit at the ghost, who only smiled more.

"_Very_ different," he added, still glancing at the sorcerer, and apparently that small incident was enough to spark some sort of realization in Arthur.

"I _knew_ it!" he exclaimed, both accusing and triumphant, earning him everyone's attention. "You _were_ talking to someone earlier. I knew I wasn't just hearing things!"

"Um…yes," Merlin admitted, once again feeling a little sheepish. "That was Rhoshad. He was telling me about the vale."

"How much did he tell you?" asked Gwaine.

"Not much, really. He said it's a long story."

"Well, even a little is better than nothing. You going to share with the rest of us?"

"…No," he said with a smile, and before any of them could say a single indignant word in response, he told them, "He will."

In that moment, he couldn't help but feel that the expressions on their faces completely made up for all the awkwardness he had suffered.

"…Merlin," began Elyan slowly, hesitantly (and Merlin was really getting tired of being spoken to like that every time he said something that sounded improbable. Arthur was fairly adept at it), "you do realize that we can't see or hear him, right?"

"Yes," he sighed impatiently, "but we found a way around that."

"…You what?"

"Look, just…just _trust_ me, alright?"

He looked to each one of them, waiting for some kind of sign, anything to let him know that they were willing to let this happen (even though they probably weren't entirely sure _what_ was about to happen). He already knew he had Lancelot's support (the encouraging nod and smile was proof enough), but he wasn't sure about the rest of them.

"…Alright, Merlin."

The warlock gave his attention to Gwaine, who was now smiling as he leaned back in his chair, adopting that carefree, nonchalant air that he was known for.

"I'm still not sure I quite understand it, but when it comes to trusting you, you should already know my answer."

Merlin didn't even bother trying to fight the warm smile that spread across his face at those words.

"Thanks, Gwaine."

"I'm in as well," Elyan told him. "If he's the one who saved us from Eiwyn, then I wouldn't mind meeting him."

Well, that was three down. One more to go, and all eyes immediately shifted to the prince who was still looking at Merlin a bit suspiciously and with more than a little indecision.

"Arthur?" he prompted.

The prince heaved a very put-upon sigh, but in the end they all knew what his answer would be.

"…Fine, just…fine. Go ahead, Merlin."

With a happy and very relieved sigh, the warlock turned to Rhoshad. The two of them nodded to each other before Merlin reached out with his right hand and placed it on the sorcerer's shoulder. They hadn't tested this, didn't even know if it was actually possible, but they had discussed it enough to know that if anyone could pull it off, Merlin could. For him, interacting with Rhoshad was just like interacting with any normal person. Sure, he had never actually tried to lend his magic to someone before, but with Rhoshad guiding him through it, he was certain that he could manage.

"Alright, just focus, Merlin. You aren't casting a spell, you're not incanting, you're just letting your magic flow. All you need to do is imagine it flowing towards your right hand. Just channel it, and I'll take care of the rest."

He closed his eyes and concentrated, doing exactly what he had been told to, and for someone like him—someone who had been born with magic, who had known its touch all his life—it took no time at all. He slowly opened his eyes, knowing that they wouldn't give him away, because he wasn't actually using his magic. He was simply letting it move through him, and because of the connection between them—both mental and physical—Rhoshad was able to pull that magic into himself.

When Merlin looked up, he was met with four equally shocked expressions. They all looked like they had just seen a ghost, and he had to bite down a bark of laughter at the irony of it.

"It's not very polite to laugh at them, Merlin," Rhoshad commented, although he had a rather amused grin on his face as well as he surveyed the four knights before him. "Well, judging by the looks on your faces, I'm assuming it must have worked."

Still the knight didn't say anything. They just kept staring as if they weren't quite sure what to say (and Merlin counted it as a victory that he had managed to render all of them completely speechless, especially Arthur and Gwaine).

"I think that I'll just skip the introductions for now since you already know who I am. _I'm_ also well aware of who you all are, and as much as I like the formality of pleasantries, we shouldn't drag this on any longer than we have to."

Rhoshad glanced towards Merlin, a worried frown marring his face.

"How do you feel?"

"Fine," he said. "It's a little strange, but I'm alright."

"The moment it becomes too much, I want you to tell me. It's odd, but like this I can't read you as well as I could before, and I might not notice in time, so you have to tell me, do you understand?"

"Yes."

The sorcerer nodded his approval before turning back to the knights who were finally recovering from their surprise enough to speak.

"What are you…how are you doing this?" asked Arthur, glancing between Rhoshad and Merlin. A moment ago there hadn't been anyone there other than Merlin, and then suddenly Rhoshad had just faded in until he looked just as whole as the rest of them. For some reason, he was able to appear in front of them now, and it had something to do with Merlin. The two of them were doing _something_; he just had no idea what.

"I'm afraid it's rather hard to explain," Rhoshad said. "Even if I told you, I doubt you'd be able to understand, and I fear we don't have that kind of time. It's a type of energy sharing, and that's all you need to know."

"Is it dangerous?" asked Lancelot, beating the rest of them to it (because that's what they were all wondering given what Merlin and Rhoshad had just been talking about).

"Not essentially, no, but it could be if we allow this to drag on for too long. I know you have a lot of questions, and I will do my best to answer them, but the story I'm about to tell you is a long one, and there's a lot you need to know if you want to make it out of here alive."

"So there _is_ a way."

"Yes, but before I begin, there are a few things you need to understand. Within this tower, my will is absolute. There is nothing you can hide from me, so please don't bother being surprised if I can anticipate your questions or if I somehow know things about you that you believe I shouldn't. It's simply the way this situation works, and explaining the details would only waste time, alright?"

They all nodded their consent, knowing better than to argue (and still feeling just a bit out of their depth. This was a ghost they were talking to, after all).

"Also, one more thing… Prince Arthur."

Arthur tensed just slightly, but he gave Rhoshad his undivided attention and didn't bother questioning how the man knew his name and that he was a prince. It wouldn't get him anywhere.

"I understand that in your kingdom, magic is outlawed and viewed with a great deal of mistrust and disdain, but you must understand that this is not your kingdom. The same rules do not and have never applied here, and I must ask that you—all of you, really—do not allow your own prejudice to hinder your understanding of what I'm about to tell you. It's important that you know the truth if you ever hope to leave the vale."

The prince wanted to say something. He really wanted to argue, to tell Rhoshad that regardless of what kingdom they were in, magic was magic, and he was still the prince of Camelot no matter where he was now, but something told him to hold his tongue. More than anything he wanted to ask if Rhoshad himself was a sorcerer (because that would make sense), but at the same time he couldn't find it in himself to do so. Part of it was his own curiosity, a need to know what they were dealing with, and the other part had a lot to do with Merlin.

While in the vale, Merlin was their guide. He understood the situation better than they did, could understand what was going on in a way they never could, and despite everything that had happened to him upon coming here, he had chosen to trust Rhoshad. This man—ghost, sorcerer, whatever he was, had helped Merlin, had helped _them_, and if not for him, they likely would have been killed by Eiwyn and those creatures. They owed him their lives, and so he would give the man the benefit of the doubt and just listen to what he had to say.

But if he betrayed them—betrayed Merlin—Arthur would make him pay a hundred times over, no matter what.

"Alright," he agreed, and the smile he earned in response was grateful but also proud, and he got the feeling that Rhoshad somehow knew exactly what he had been thinking.

"Well then, I suppose it would be best to start at the beginning. Let's see… Long ago, this land, which you call 'the vale,' was once known as the kingdom of Haulden. It was vast and plentiful, spreading as far as the distant mountains. This castle was at the heart of it, surrounded by a large town filled with people and life. Haulden was peaceful and prosperous, ruled by a royal family that truly loved their people. There was no poverty, no war, no strife—the people were treated well, and they in turn placed their faith in their sovereigns…but it wasn't the king and queen that the people often spoke of fondly. It was their daughter, a young princess who was as elegant as she was kind… A girl with hair the color of ash and eyes like faded gold."

He didn't need to say it. He could tell just by their expressions that they were already making the connected, but he did it anyway.

"Her name was Eiwyn."

Out of the four of them, it was Elyan who found his voice the fastest.

"So…So Eiwyn—_that_ Eiwyn—was…?"

"Yes. She was the sole heir to this kingdom, and she has been its guardian for longer than you could possibly imagine."

"Guardian?"

"Rhoshad," began Lancelot a bit hesitantly, as if he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know the answer "just how old _is_ Haulden?"

"I'm afraid I don't know the exact number—I fear I stopped counting—but it's been more than six hundred years now."

…Six hundred years.

Six _hundred_ years. The vale had been around for _six hundred years_, and in that time no one had ever managed to break the enchantment.

Why?

"The kingdom itself is probably older still," Rhoshad continued, choosing to ignore their obvious shock, "but I'm afraid I don't know much about that. I only took an interest after it became my home."

"So you weren't born here?" asked Lancelot.

"No. The year before I came of age, I left my home and traveled to Hualden. I wanted to make a living for myself, to put my gifts to better use, and I knew Haulden was the best place to start. At the time, the kingdom was as strong as it could be, safe from enemies of all kinds and too powerful to ever be taken. Not to say that other kingdoms didn't try, though instead of attempting to take the kingdom for themselves, they sought alliances through treaties and trading rights, and when Lady Eiwyn had seen her sixteenth summer, many sought it through marriage as well.

"However, the king and queen were very careful. They were suspicious of every suitor, and if one showed even the smallest bit of ill intent, they were sent away. I fear that's what happened to all of them, because even when the king and queen approved of one, Eiwyn never did. She had this strange ability to see through people, to notice things that others couldn't, and if someone didn't measure up to her standards and the future she desired for Haulden, she would turn them away without hesitation. Her life was for her people, and nothing was ever going to change that.

"I met Eiwyn for the first time not long after I came to Haulden. She had just celebrated her seventeenth year, and there had been a festival of sorts held by the people in her honor. I hadn't expected to see the royal family mingling with peasants, speaking to one another as equals, but that's the sort of kingdom it was. At that time I had been staying at the local inn, earning my keep through chores, but the owner had suggested that I seek an audience with the king and queen to see if my talents couldn't be put to better use. In the end though, I didn't even need to seek them out. Strangely enough, they were the ones who sought out me

"Haulden's court was composed of a great many people, and one of them had been seeking an apprentice of sorts. During the festival, I made the mistake of joining in and using my talents to show off to a crowd. I hadn't really thought that anyone from the court would actually be watching—they were nothing more than simple tricks, after all—but one of them was, and I guess he saw something in me that was worth investing his time in.

"I know that you're all wondering just what I mean by 'talents' and 'gifts,' and I _will_ tell you, but I fear you may not like the answer. Just remember what I told you about putting aside your prejudices, because if you don't, we may as well stop now, because the man I'm speaking of—the member of Haulden's court who took me in—was their Court Sorcerer, and the gift I spoke of is magic."

"…So you're a _sorcerer_."

"Indeed I am, Prince Arthur, though I suppose the correct form of it would be 'I _was _a sorcerer.' I'm nothing more than a ghost now, clinging to what remains of my magic. Back when I was alive, well…I suppose I was fairly powerful. Spells came easily to me, and I had no trouble making up my own when I had to. My potential for magic was great even though it took me years to realize it. Most can go their entire lives and never realize that they have it, but sometimes it becomes so great that you simply can't ignore it. That's what happened to me, and that was the kind of power that Haulden's Court Sorcerer was looking for.

"When he first brought me before the king and queen, I'll admit that I was terrified. I thought I had done something wrong, but instead he had me introduce myself and then informed them that I would be living with him in the castle from now on. I honestly didn't have much of a say in the matter—not that I would have turned him down, mind you, but the decision was made before I could even say anything. I moved in that very night and was awake at the crack of dawn the next day. He was a bit of a ruthless master, but I truly did enjoy everything he taught me…and it was during that time that I got to know Haulden's princess.

"Eiwyn was fascinated by magic. She spent a lot of time visiting our chambers, reading the books there and discussing different spells and practices. She had only a small potential for it herself, not even enough to cast the simplest of spells, but she still wanted to learn as much as she could, so I always indulged her. We became friends of a sort, I suppose. I'm not really sure what to call it, because sometimes I felt more like a mentor than a friend even though she wasn't that much younger than I, but whatever we were, it worked. For the first time in my life, I had a purpose—a life that I wanted to protect, and I thought that I could happily live out the rest of my days with Eiwyn by my side, but…well…I guess it was all a bit too good to be true, really.

"It happened not long after Eiwyn came of age. A suitor arrived, a man from a powerful family in more ways than one, and he was able to charm his way right past the king and queen…but no matter what he tried, he couldn't fool Eiwyn. He was greedy and power-hungry, a man who believed that he deserved more than his own kingdom could give. He wanted Haulden for its land and resources, and he wanted Eiwyn for her wealth and beauty. After he was sent away, she came to me and said that he had cursed her and the kingdom, had said that because of her selfishness, her people would suffer. I tried to convince her that he was just angry, that the kingdom was in no real danger…but a week after he was banished from the castle, people began to get sick.

"It started out simple enough. Everyone believed it to simply be a common illness, because the symptoms weren't anything to worry about…but everyone who fell ill stayed that way, and they only grew worse with each passing day. They started to complain about headaches and exhaustion, terrible pains in their chests. They said it felt like they weren't really there, that their bodies were still moving but their minds were elsewhere. When none of the healers were able to come up with anything, the patients were sent to us to see if there was anything that magic could do to help them, but nothing worked. Eventually everyone who fell ill simply went to sleep and never woke up.

"The people of Haulden…they panicked. No one knew what was going on or how to stop it. All of the kingdom's best scholars closed themselves off in this very tower and spent months trying to find a solution, to figure out a way to cure it or at least stop it from spreading, but there were no answers. Even amongst thousands and thousands of books, they couldn't find anything. We didn't even know what it was, and in the end it was Eiwyn who gave us the answer.

"I never really asked her much about her odd ability of being able to read people. I never once thought that it might be related to the magic that I assumed she couldn't use, but a few months after the illness appeared, she came to me in tears and told me that the kingdom had been cursed. She said that the people weren't dying, that she had stayed by the bedside of a dear friend of hers in their final moments and watched as their life drained away…but she said that it wasn't their life that had left them but their _soul_.

"My master and I began researching immediately, looking for something that we had missed before, and even though there wasn't a curse in any of our books that could do what Eiwyn had described, he explained to me that sometimes spells aren't needed. Magic exists in everything—in people, the air, the land—and it can often react to a person's desires, their desperation, their emotions…their hearts. He said that the magic being used, the curse that was cast, was born from bitterness and hatred, a heart that had grown dark and tainted by lust and power. Their magic had spread like a disease to Haulden, infecting the air and the land, weakening the people and draining them of life in order to fuel its growth.

"Eiwyn had been right. The people weren't dying. Their souls were being torn from them and then destroyed, consumed by a curse so twisted and dark that not even those who possessed magic were able to protect themselves from it. Everyone it touched met the same fate, cursed to fade away into nothing, to cease to exist. We tried to keep it from the people, to keep them from panicking even more than they already were, but word got out anyway, and everything just got worse. The curse continued to spread throughout the kingdom, and then a tragedy greater than any we could have imagined occurred. The king and queen fell ill.

"Eiwyn begged us to save them, to do something, but there was no cure, no way to stop the curse. There was no spell to counter, no power great enough to destroy the darkness, and even though we spent months trying to find some way to fight it, we weren't able to find a solution. The king and queen were soon bedridden, and Eiwyn was forced to become regent while the kingdom was in turmoil. Her parents were fading away, her people were terrified, and every day someone new fell ill and another lost their soul…and yet she didn't give up.

"I don't know how she did it, but…she calmed the people. She would walk amongst them, would visit the homes of those who had fallen ill, and would provide care for the families left behind. No one was left untouched by her generosity, and her courage inspired us to keep searching, to keep trying to find a way to save Haulden. By the time we finally started to make some kind of progress, my master fell ill. He hadn't slept in days, had barely eaten, and so it hit him hard. He was gone not even a week later.

"I shut myself up in this tower and continued researching what we had discussed, but no matter how lost in it all I got, Eiwyn always found me. She would force me to leave and take a walk with her, through the castle and the courtyards, into the town and to the fields beyond it. She would tell me not to worry, not to lose myself even though it was obvious that she was doing all she could just to hold herself together. I swore to myself that I would find a way to save her kingdom, to protect the people she loved…and in the end I was able to find it—a spell that could stop the curse, keep it from spreading…but all magic comes with a price, and the cost for saving Haulden was a heavy one.

"It took me two months to put everything together, to craft the spell I would need to make it work. As soon as I had everything ready, I called for Eiwyn and explained it to her. The curse couldn't be destroyed, not as powerful as it was, but it could be contained—forced into the land and held there so that it could never touch another soul…but in order to do that, Haulden would have to disappear. The kingdom would have to be sealed, placed behind a barrier so that nothing within the kingdom could ever get out. We couldn't let the curse spread, and all it would take is one person to make that happen.

"The spell I designed involved a barrier being placed around the land, one that would appear as mist to hopefully deter people from coming too close or wandering too far in. This way the curse wouldn't be able to spread beyond the walls of my shield, and so no one else would have to suffer the same tragedy that we had. The rest of the spell…was a lot more complicated. My barrier would be able to seal the kingdom and drive the curse down into the land, but a spell that powerful can't be maintained without a vessel of some kind. I had intended to use a very old and very sacred tree, one that I have long since forgotten the name of, but it wouldn't have been enough. The only other way was to use a living vessel.

"I had originally intended to use myself. It was my spell, after all, and I knew what that entailed. I didn't want to force that fate upon anyone else, but Eiwyn… She insisted that I use her instead. I told her what would happen. I explained how the magic would use her as a conduct of sorts, that her soul would be bound to the very land itself and her very existence would become part of Haulden. She would be chained to the kingdom, never aging, never changing. Everyone else would perish and she would be left all alone, but she told me that she didn't mind. She said it was a small price to pay if it meant she could save her people.

"The other condition for the spell was far crueler, if you can imagine. The cost to save a soul is a heavy one, and the cost to save Haulden…was the life of every person in the kingdom. They would have to give up their lives so that the curse could be purged from their bodies and forced into the earth. In order to keep them all from disappearing forever, they had to die…and because nothing can leave the barrier, they would have to remain there, trapped for however long it took for the spell to be lifted. I hadn't thought that they would agree to such a thing, but Eiwyn was able to convince them. Their trust in her and her love for them was enough to allow my spell to work, and so one year after the curse began, I sealed off Haulden.

"The people died, Eiwyn became bound to the land, and I performed the final two acts of my enchantment. I built a monument and placed my staff at its center, creating a way for the enchantment to one day be lifted, and in the innermost courtyard, I planted a single seed from the kingdom's most sacred tree in hopes that it would be able to cleanse the land and destroy the curse for good. Together, Eiwyn and I remained in Haulden. While she watched over her people, I continued researching, looking for a way to wipe out the curse entirely, because if I could find one, then we could end the enchantment, and the people would be able to pass on.

"Years passed like that, and as Eiwyn remained the same, I continued to grow older. We still spent time together, still relied on one another, and sometimes I thought that I could get used to living like that, just the two of us…but at the same time I knew that the enchantment had to end eventually, that it was our duty to end it when the time was right, but…I…"

The sorcerer quickly bowed his head, refusing to look at anything, and at his sides his hands clenched into fists. For the first time since Rhoshad had appeared before them, he looked every bit like the young man his image showed him as and not at all like the centuries old sorcerer that he was. Through his whole story, there had been hints of different emotions, different memories, triggers where his voice would catch or his eyes would dim and his mouth would pull down into a tight line or a frown. There were hints of pain and fear, of love, loss, sorrow, and grief, but everything about him at that moment spoke of only one thing—a deep-seated and crushing sense of regret.

The silence that had fallen over them was suffocating, and all four of them were waiting for something to happen (and wasn't it strange that all of them were so caught up in the story, so focused on what had happened that nothing else seemed to matter, not even the magic), but Rhoshad almost seemed to be lost in his memories, drifting further and further away in the silence.

At his shoulder, Merlin was looking at him with an expression so full of pity and understanding—empathy, that was the word—that Arthur couldn't help but wonder if he somehow already knew what was coming or if he was just reacting to the regret he could see in Rhoshad (because he knew now that Merlin had been through more than he let on, and that he had regrets just as deep and dark as anyone).

It was that look that prompted him to say something, to give the push that was needed, because he couldn't stand seeing it there and not being able to change it.

"What happened?" he asked, barely above a whisper, but it was enough.

"…I made a mistake. My enchantment… I gave Eiwyn too much power."

He raised his head, and the look on his face was nothing short of tortured.

"I tried to lift the enchantment forty years after I cast it…and she killed me for it."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Well, I hope you enjoyed that. I had way too much fun writing it, because I've been waiting for this bit for forever, and it was a lot easier to finally write it than I thought it would be. And this is probably the largest bit of dialogue you will ever see from me, so I hope it turned out good. I also hope I answered a few questions (and made a few more as well).

Again, I wasn't able to get to all the reviews this week either (there were so many!) But I'm grateful for all of them. You don't even have to say too much if you don't want to (believe me, I will still wrtie a paragraph of a response regardless), and I promise that this week I shall make time. I have the weekend plus monday through wednesday off, so I will have time :)

So, it's really late, and I have to be awake in three hours, so I'm gonna go to bed. Until next week!


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** So, apparently I'm epic fail at time management. I had four days off (five if you count tomorrow), and I still managed to push this to the last minute. Life still found a way to interfere, though this time it did it in the form of grocery shopping, super hero movies, my sister, Skies of Arcadia, Sherlock, and anime. I'm fairly certain I didn't accomplish anything that I had wanted to in my time off…oh well.

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language. Better safe than sorry, ne?  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin :)

So, I realized that I sort of have this problem where something makes complete sense to me up until the point where I try to put it into words, and then it just gets confusing, so I apologize to anyone who isn't used to philosophical rambling (probably not the right word), but I did my absolute best to put it all into words. I could have elaborated further, but I likely would have just been repeating myself (you'll know what I mean when you get there :)

As always, if you find any errors, please point them out and I shall fix them :)

Onward!

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 23<p>

There was probably a better word for it, but "shocked" pretty much summed up their feelings quite nicely after that small revelation.

"…She _killed_ you?" asked Elyan in a whisper, voicing the question they were all pondering, because it just didn't make any sense. After everything that had happened, all that the two of them had been through together, Eiwyn had turned on her best friend, her people's savior. From Rhoshad's story, she had been depicted as a kind, loving person, and yet for some reason she had felt the need to end his life.

"Yes," Rhoshad answered, his voice soft and his eyes downcast as he pointedly looked at the floor.

"But why?" asked Lancelot, his voice just as quiet, because it felt like anything louder might shatter whatever it was that had fallen over them, whatever was holding them there. "If you were going to break the enchantment, then why did she stop you?"

If the enchantment were to be lifted, then the people of Haulden would be free to pass on. Why wouldn't she want that?

"It…was a misunderstanding," the sorcerer said hesitantly, as if he had to choose his words carefully. "I didn't explain things to her properly, and when I tried to break it, she didn't even give me a chance to try. She believed that I had betrayed her."

They wanted to ask why, to understand what had really happened, but something kept them from asking. There was something about Rhoshad, something that they could almost feel in the air itself that told them that even if they asked, they wouldn't get an answer. Besides, asking a question like that almost felt like prying. This man had suffered through so much and for so long, and it was obvious that this particular topic was a painful one, a wound that not even the passage of time had been able to heal. What right did any of them have to tear it back open?

Rhoshad flashed a small, grateful smile at the four of them, and they immediately knew that somehow he had been able to see exactly what they had been thinking.

With a deep, calming breath, the sorcerer continued with his story.

"After I died—or right before I died, I suppose—I attached my soul to this tower. It's where I spent most of my time, so it seemed like the most logical choice. I could have let myself be pulled into the air like the rest of the souls, but I knew that my role wasn't over yet, so instead I chose to remain here in hopes that one day my power would return enough so that I'd be able to do something, to reach her…but no matter how hard I try, she still can't hear my voice. I fear she never will."

Rhoshad fell silent once more, and from where he stood at the sorcerer's side, Merlin was able to see just how difficult this was for him, but at the same time he got the sense that it was a great relief for him to finally be able to talk about it. For hundreds of years, he had had no one. There hadn't been anyone to talk to, to interact with, no one who could listen to his story. There had been no one to confess to, no one to understand, to support, to accept, and Merlin knew how important that was, how necessary it could be. He knew what it was like to have doubts, fears—to feel pain and regret and heartrending loss. It was hard enough to move past it even with having someone to talk to (and sometimes that wasn't even enough), but he couldn't imagine how hard it would be to have no one there to listen.

If put in the same position, he wasn't sure if he'd be strong enough to live that way without losing his mind. Six hundred years was a long time to be in such isolation, and he was kind of amazed that even with all that Rhoshad had lost, he still had his sanity. Even after all those years, he had still managed to hold onto himself. The warlock couldn't help but smile at the thought, but it wasn't just Rhoshad who had managed to impress him through all of this. He was quite proud of the knights as well.

To be perfectly honest, he had expected most of them not to take this as seriously as they should. He hadn't expected them to actually listen, to remain attentive and focused, but they had actually gone even further than that and had been drawn in. Throughout the whole story, they had watched and listened, had paid attention to everything that was said and how he had said it, their focus never wavering. They hadn't interrupted, hadn't scoffed; none of them had even looked _bored_. Instead all four of them had listened intently to the story of a sorcerer, a tale filled with magic, and he could tell just from the looks on their faces that they believed every word.

Maybe it had something to do with Rhoshad's influence, or perhaps it was just something to do with the man himself, but for whatever reason, they all seemed willing to trust him. Even if necessity played a part in it (because they were out of options and running out of time), he still couldn't help but feel proud of them all, especially Arthur. It made him hopeful that perhaps one day he'd be able to tell them all about his own magic without losing any of the relationships that he had spent so much time building over the years.

Maybe someday everything would be alright.

"…So, question," he heard Gwaine say, snapping him back to the conversation at hand. "Eiwyn…she's still alive, right?"

"Yes."

"So if she wanted to, could _she_ break the enchantment?"

"Yes, but I fear you won't be able to convince her to do so. She would sooner kill you than talk to you."

"But," began Arthur, a frown marring his face, "you implied that there's a way for us to leave here…"

"I did."

"So then is there a way for _us_ to break the enchantment?"

"…Yes."

"How?"

Rhoshad hesitated again, and for a moment Merlin wasn't sure if he would actually tell them, but in the end the sorcerer just took a deep breath and answered.

"…You must take my staff from the courtyard and bring it to the top of the other tower. In the highest room there will be a platform covered in runes, and at its center is a depression in the stone. That is where my staff must be placed. When that happens, the enchantment will break, the barrier will vanish, and the people of Haulden will be set free."

"Easier said than done," Gwaine muttered as he crossed his arms and reclined a bit in his chair. "That staff can't be removed by just anyone."

"…Actually, it can."

That immediately had all of them tensing up, their eyes wide and focused once again on the ghost standing before them. Merlin remained the only one unsurprised because he and Rhoshad had already had this conversation, or part of it at least. He still didn't fully understand it—he hadn't had much time to ask—so hopefully he'd get the answers now.

The warlock took a deep breath and did his best to shake off the somewhat odd sensation that was spreading through his body. He could tell that the process was starting to take a toll, but he wasn't ready to stop yet. So far all he could really feel was an encroaching exhaustion, one that was making his head start to feel heavy and his body light, but he could tolerate that for at least a little longer. He needed answers, and he needed the rest of them to hear this as well. He would manage.

"_What_?" Arthur practically barked out (and of course it would be Arthur to ask—not tact and no patience).

"How?" asked Gwaine just a beat later, just as curious but a bit less demanding, thankfully.

"Well, theoretically, anyone can remove my staff," Rhoshad told them. "All you need is understanding and an open heart."

"But what does that _mean_?" asked Arthur. "Can't you just tell us what we need to do?"

The sorcerer merely shook his head, a somewhat sad, almost pained look crossing his face.

"I'm sorry, but I can't. If I tell you, it won't be genuine. You'll know, but you won't truly understand. If a person touches that staff without an open heart and without complete understanding of the consequences, it will reject them."

"Consequences?"

"Yes. That staff represents a choice, and all choices bear consequences. Only someone who understands that weight, who has an unselfish, open heart, has the right to take it."

_A choice?_ Merlin wanted to ask, wanted to say something, but for some reason he was having a hard time finding his voice. His mind seemed to be getting fuzzy as well, and there were black spots all over his vision. He was fairly certain that wasn't supposed to be happening. He seemed to be fighting a losing battle against them as they continued to cloud his sight, and he was pretty sure that gravity was trying to join the fight as well.

"But what exactly _is_ an open heart?" he heard Arthur ask, the words filtering in slowly.

_Just a little longer, _he encouraged, trying to force the exhaustion and the darkness away._ Please, just hold on a little longer…_

He really should have known that it wouldn't work. After all, he never had been very good at doing what he was told.

"Well…" began Rhoshad, letting the word hang for a moment as he debated whether or not he could tell them without it interfering. He had to be careful with his information, because knowing and understanding were two very different things, and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin any chance they had, but after thinking about it, he figured there was no harm. If he chose his words carefully, it wouldn't hinder them. "It's—"

His eyes widened as there was an immediate change in the magic flowing into him, and not a moment later he felt the hand that had been resting solidly on his shoulder slip right off.

"Merlin!" he called, turning just in time to grab the warlock before he could fall to the floor in an unconscious heap. He went to his knees and lowered the young man carefully, one arm still supporting him and the other checking him over for anything that could be wrong. He was vaguely aware that all four knights were on their feet and crowding around him. He didn't bother acknowledging them. It was easy enough to tell how they were feeling.

"What happened?" Arthur demanded, dropping down on Merlin's other side. That piercing gaze was focused entirely on Rhoshad, but the sorcerer was too busy to acknowledge him, still looking over the warlock. He checked his pulse and breathing, both of which were slow, but it was nothing to be too concerned with. He was rather pale though, and his magic…

Rhoshad gave a soft, sad sigh. He should have known that Merlin would push himself too far. With enough rest, his strength would eventually return, but he had given far too much of his magic. He _would_ get it back, but it would likely take a while. Even now, it continued to flow between them.

"You fool," he whispered in a sad albeit fond voice. "I told you to tell me."

"What's wrong? Is he alright?"

Rhoshad looked first to Arthur and then to the other three who were still hovering over him. They were all worried, and even though he could see it to certain degrees on their faces, he could feel it far more in their hearts. The outward appearance—the projections that people would create for themselves for the world to see were often dishonest, and sometimes it was hard to remember that there had once been a time where he had had to rely on that when dealing with people. Interaction with others seemed almost impossible to him now without being able to read their intentions. Without that ability there would be no guarantee, no certainty…but wasn't that why trust and faith were both so precious?

These people, whether they realized it or not, had chosen to trust him. On some level they had made that choice, and as they stood around him, there was no accusation, no suspicion—just a genuine need to know whether their friend was alright or not, and for that he owed them nothing more or less than the truth.

"He will be," he said, settling the warlock on the floor as gently as he could. "He's just exhausted."

The sorcerer sighed, knowing that his time was up. As much as he wished to continue talking to them, he knew he couldn't. He would simply have to go back to watching over them for now.

"I'm sorry, but I fear we're out of time," he told them, that sad smile still in place as he eyes strayed back to Merlin. "Any longer and I'd be putting him in danger. Please remember what I've told you. You'll need it."

Rhoshad withdrew completely, breaking his connection with Merlin and with the magic.

"Take good care of him."

And just like that, he faded once more into the background, leaving them all staring at the empty space where he had once been.

Recovering faster than the rest, Lancelot quickly moved into the space Rhoshad had once occupied and dropped to his knees next to the unconscious warlock, looking him over quickly. Sure enough, Merlin appeared to be fine aside from the obvious exhaustion. For all intents and purposes, he was merely sleeping.

"Well?" Gwaine prodded.

"It's alright," Lancelot told him. "He's just asleep. We should let him rest for now. Whatever he did, it can't have been easy for him."

Much like the previous night, they grabbed the empty supplies bag and placed it under Merlin's head before draping Lancelot's cape over him. The way he was sleeping, he would likely be out the whole night and well into the morning.

As soon as their friend was situated, the four of them lapsed into silence while still crowding around the slumbering servant. None of them felt much like moving from their respective seats on the floor, their heads too full of what they had just learned and all that still needed to be done. Rhoshad had told them everything he could, and he seemed to believe that it was enough to help them break the enchantment despite all that they still didn't know.

While he mulled everything over, Arthur couldn't seem to keep his attention from straying, and more often than not it ended up drifting towards his servant. It just felt like there was something he was missing, something that both Merlin and Rhoshad had chosen to keep from the rest of them. Then again, it wasn't uncommon to feel like he was missing something when Merlin was involved. He had learned that things weren't always as they seemed with his servant, and he would have to be a complete fool to believe that that whole debacle with Morgana was the only thing Merlin had kept from him.

Of course, at the same time he could acknowledge that he didn't always make it easy for Merlin to come to him with things like that. Even just a short while ago when he had been trying to tell them about Rhoshad, none of them had been very willing to believe that there was actually a ghost amongst them, and all of Merlin's hesitation was proof that he had known what their reactions would be. He hadn't expected them to believe him at first, and it really had nothing to do with not trusting them, because if that was the case, he probably wouldn't have bothered to even try.

No, it wasn't about Merlin feeling like he couldn't trust them, but it had a lot to do with believing that _they_ wouldn't trust _him_. What was even worse was that he had every right to feel that way.

He had come to them with a ghost—a deceased sorcerer no less—and Arthur knew that if Merlin hadn't been able to prove it, he probably wouldn't have believed him. He probably would have accused him of lying, of trying to hide something, and even when Rhoshad _had_ suddenly appeared before them with Merlin at his side, the prince had been ready to argue, to disregard him the moment he started talking about magic, but in the end he hadn't been able to. Even when Rhoshad had admitted to being a sorcerer, he still hadn't been able to say anything or even be angry about it, because through all of it, Merlin had stood there and listened patiently, calmly, never once showing an ounce of unease or fear.

Rhoshad was a six-hundred-some-year-old magical ghost, and for some ridiculous reason, Merlin had given him his absolute trust.

And so Arthur, despite his better judgment, had decided to trust Merlin. If he believed in the spirit so unwaveringly, then at the very least the prince could believe in _him_, and strangely enough, the longer the story had gone on, the more he began to understand why Merlin had chosen to trust him. There was just something very honest about Rhoshad, a type of genuine compassion that can't be faked. Despite being a sorcerer, he had dedicated his life to the kingdom of Haulden and had saved the people from a fate far worse than death. He had used his magic to help instead of destroy.

To be honest, Arthur wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. He was also pretty sure that thinking about it now wouldn't do him much good. They had bigger things to worry about, because even with their newfound knowledge, they were still trapped in the vale with no clear way of escaping, and they were running out of time.

After tomorrow they would be out of food and water.

Whatever course of action they chose to take, it would have to be soon.

* * *

><p>It was well into the night (or early into the morning), the world around him still cast in shadows, when Merlin suddenly found himself undeniably awake and unable to remember once again how he had managed to end up on the floor. He sat up a bit slowly, rubbing at his eyes to chase the sleep from them before taking a good look around. Sure enough, it was still very dark outside which consequently made it very dark in the room as well. All around him he could see the forms of his friends sleeping on the floor, making due with what they had. He couldn't help but smile a bit at the sight before he turned his thoughts back to what had happened. It really didn't take him long at all to remember.<p>

He had passed out while lending his magic to Rhoshad.

Something told him he was going to be in a bit of trouble when he met the ghost again…or when his friends woke up. Probably both, knowing his luck.

With a soft sigh, the warlock got up and moved back towards the wall behind him with Lancelot's red cape draped over his shoulders to help fight off the slight chill in the air. He sat down and leant against the wall, allowing his mind to drift back through the story he had been told, because there was still one thing that didn't make sense to him, that he couldn't seem to grasp no matter how hard he tried.

Eiwyn had loved her people, her kingdom, and he was almost certain that she had loved Rhoshad as well…so why did she stop him from removing the enchantment? Why did she kill him for trying? She was a prisoner in the vale like they were, so why had she gone to such measures to keep things the way they were? There had to be a reason, something important, something that he had overlooked.

Rhoshad had said that the choice to remove the staff was a heavy one, that only someone who understood the weight of the consequences could do it. What consequences? What could possibly happen aside from the obvious? Besides all that, there was another problem with removing the staff, one that all of them had sort of been avoiding.

Eiwyn.

In order to get to the staff, they would have to get past Eiwyn, which wasn't possible. The moment they set foot beyond that door, she would know, and she'd waste no time in finding them. Even _if_ one of them were capable of removing the staff, she would never allow them to get that far.

There had to be a way to somehow stay hidden from her, to disappear long enough to reach the staff and take it to the tower.

He _really_ needed to talk to Rhoshad.

"Welcome back."

Startled, Merlin flailed and snapped his head up only to end up smacking it against the wall. He hissed in pain and rubbed the back of his head (thankfully he hadn't hit it too hard) before glaring into the darkness around him. He knew that voice, and its owner seemed to find his situation rather funny if the chuckling was anything to go by.

"You shouldn't laugh," the warlock muttered, keeping his voice down so he wouldn't wake his friends. "I'm injured here."

"You have only yourself to blame for that."

Before he knew it, Rhoshad appeared at his side and sank down to the floor to sit next to him. The ghost fixed him with an almost calculating stare, one that had Merlin suddenly feeling guilty even though he wasn't entirely sure what he should be feeling guilty about.

"You were supposed to let me know when it became too much," Rhoshad told him, and Merlin immediately knew what he was referring to. Honestly, he had meant to say something. He hadn't planned on letting it get that bad, but he had gotten caught up in finding the answers and hadn't been paying enough to attention to his magic. He had used far more than he had intended to.

The sorcerer next to him heaved a sigh before running a hand through his hair in what sort of looked like mild exasperation.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Given what I know about you, I should've known better. You're not very good at doing what you're told, are you."

"Not really," the warlock replied with a smile, earning him one in return.

For a moment the two of them sat in silence, allowing the calm of the night to wash over them, but Merlin found that he couldn't chase his thoughts away for long. He still had too many questions, too many things he needed to know, because the more he thought about it all, the more hopeless everything seemed. There was so much working against them, so much that could go wrong. Escaping seemed impossible, and yet for some reason Rhoshad seemed to believe that they could do it. He had implied as much, anyway.

"Rhoshad," he called softly, drawing the sorcerer's attention while his remained firmly fixed on the floor.

"What is it?"

"Do you really believe that we can lift the enchantment?"

"I do."

The warlock heaved a sigh and pulled the cape tighter around himself, still not feeling any better about the mess they were in. He just couldn't see a way out. He was so focused on wallowing in his discouraging thoughts that he didn't notice the shift in Rhoshad's demeanor, didn't see the sad yet knowing look that crossed his face. When the sorcerer spoke again, all of his earlier amusement was gone, and in its place was the tone of someone who had seen far too much and was tired of it all.

"Merlin," he called, immediately drawing the warlock's attention. "There's something you should know about my staff, something I failed to mention earlier. In some ways, it serves as an extension of myself. Once it's removed, whoever holds it also holds my power in their hands. While carrying it, that person will be protected just like this room is. Also, once it's removed, it no longer matters who uses it. The warnings only apply to the person who takes it from the courtyard, but after that it can be touched by anyone. There are no requirements for placing it in the tower."

"Good to know, I suppose, but that still doesn't change the fact that none of us can actually _remove_ it," Merlin said miserably as he sulked against the wall. Honestly, why explain all that to him when it didn't make a difference anyway?

"…You're wrong."

His head snapped up and he fixed Rhoshad with a wide-eyed stare, his mouth falling open in disbelief.

"What? _Who_?"

He needed an answer. He desperately needed an answer, because it wasn't fair for him to say something like that and then not tell him who it was. He just prayed that the answer wasn't Eiwyn, because he already knew that she could lift the enchantment if she wanted, but that would be a battle lost before ever having begun.

However, in the end Rhoshad didn't _say_ anything. All he did was calmly look back at the warlock, his expression saying everything it needed to. The sorcerer was looking at him as if he should already know the answer, as if it was staring him right in the face, but he couldn't remember being told _anything_ about…oh.

_Oh._

Merlin was pretty sure that his heart came to a complete stop for a moment before it began to race, accompanied by the sound of blood rushing in his ears. All he could do was stare at Rhoshad in a way that made it seem like the man had suddenly sprouted another head, because _really_, this had to be some kind of joke. It _had_ to be, because there was just no way that he was implying something like that. It just wasn't possible.

"…No," he whispered with a shake of his head, his voice trembling a bit (whether from shock or terror, he wasn't sure, nor did he particularly care). "No, that…that's _not_…"

Despite how terribly he was taking the man's silent implication, Rhoshad remained patient, and when he spoke there wasn't even a hint of exasperation or amusement in his voice.

"In order to remove the staff, a person much approach it with full understanding of what they're about to do. They must be able to bear the weight of the consequences that come with it. You already have the knowledge required to understand why the choice is a heavy one, even if you may not realize it, and you posses an unselfish heart, open and honest and fully capable of making the right choice for the right reasons."

"You're _wrong_," he said firmly with a much more frantic shake of his head. "I _can't_. I've made so many mistakes, told _so_ many lies… I'm not honest at all."

Rhoshad simply looked at him for a moment, not saying a word, and suddenly Merlin felt much like he had in front of Eiwyn, as if everything he was and everything he could be were right there on the surface, available to anyone who took the time to look. He was certain that Rhoshad would be able to see exactly what kind of person he was, would be forced to prove Merlin right and retract all the words that he had never actually said…but in the end, all he did was smile, and it was filled with so much fondness and compassion that Merlin found himself left speechless in its wake.

"Merlin," he began warmly (no laughter, no sarcasm, no scorn), "that's not what it means."

His following "what" was so quiet that he barely even heard it in the silence, but whether it was heard or not, Rhoshad continued anyway.

"You all made so many assumptions about that inscription when in reality it's quite simple. All anyone needs to do is understand the story behind that staff—understand what it represents—and approach it with a heart that's open. Eiwyn was right when she told you that "open" wasn't the same as "pure," but at the same time that's not entirely right either.

"Let me ask you this. What do you believe is more important—a person's actions or their intentions?"

Just where was he going with this?

"I-I…well…both?"

"…Yes, that would be fair, because people can't simply judge by one or the other, can they. The worst of intentions can hide behind the kindest of acts just as cruelty can come from even the best of intentions. If you judge only by what you see, you'll never find the truth, and if you only look at the truth, you'll never really see. There has to be a balance between what we do and why we do it, and at the center of it all is what we call the heart. An open heart is one that understands that balance, that doesn't contradict itself. It's not about being perfect or always telling the truth. You don't have to tell all your secrets or reveal every lie. It's okay to hide things, to make mistakes, to have regrets, because people are imperfect, and anyone who claims otherwise is either ignorant or too self-absorbed to see otherwise.

"The thing is…most people are self righteous. They try to reason out their actions so that they don't feel regret. They judge everyone else for their failings and shortcomings while not being able to see the same things in themselves, but you—and your friends as well, to some extent—judge yourself far more harshly than you judge others. You admit to your mistakes, and you're able to regret, to look back and see what could have been done differently. You don't lie to yourself. Too many people try to pretend, to hide who and what they are for foolish reasons like respect and pride, but not you. Despite all your secrets and all the lies, you have not once lost sight of yourself.

"An open heart is truly nothing more or less than someone who is honest with themselves. It's a person who's capable of admitting their mistakes, who understands regret, and who doesn't try to fool themselves into believing something that they know isn't true (your prince is a prime example, still unable to admit aloud what everyone else can clearly see). You could tell a thousand lies, keep a hundred secrets, and _still_ be able to lift the enchantment, because it's not about that. Whether you believe me or not, you're honest, Merlin. You're unselfish, compassionate, and you understand the weight of a choice and the consequences that follow. If _you_ approach the monument with complete understanding, it will not reject you."

When Rhoshad fell silent, Merlin wasn't sure what to do. He could only stare at that sincere gaze while he tried to process everything he had been told. It was just too much, and he didn't know what to do, what to say, because even though Rhoshad _could_ read his heart, he still didn't believe half of what was said. He wasn't some sort of saint or martyr or whatever it was that Rhoshad was trying to make him out to be. He was just Merlin, servant to Prince Arthur and secret protector of Camelot, a warlock with an important destiny who kept making mistakes and kept losing people and kept telling lies, over and over and _over _again.

He couldn't do it. He just _couldn't_.

Beside him he heard Rhoshad huff a soft laugh, that same smile still on his face.

"It's for _that_ very reason, Merlin, that you _can_."

He shook his head in denial, not wanting to hear it. He was about to protest, to argue, to open his mouth and tell him that he was just _wrong_…but just like that, everything suddenly fell into place, and he could do nothing but let it all crash over him, again and again, until he had no choice but to accept something that he should have already known.

Over the years, hundreds of people had wandered into the vale, all for various reasons but never for the _right_ reasons. They had been seeking fame, fortune, knowledge, adventure, a chance to prove themselves in the face of the unknown. They had all been self-assured, confident, always believing that it wouldn't be them, that they'd be different. Every reason had been foolish, selfish, and arrogant, and even if they had been able to learn the truth about the vale, to see beyond their own goals, none of them would have been able to remove the staff no matter how noble their intentions, because that wasn't what it was about.

Rhoshad had said it himself—the staff represented a choice. It wasn't about good intentions or chivalrous acts; no amount of self-confidence or strength or magic would ever be able to reach it, because that's not what it was about. The moment someone approached that staff with the belief that what they were doing was _right_, it would reject them, because right and wrong were concepts that meant different things to different people. It had nothing to do with that—right, wrong, good, bad—and everything to do with the desires of the person making the choice. It was about acknowledging both sides, weighing the consequences, and choosing a path not because it's right but because it's _yours_.

Even if it turned out to be a mistake, even if it brought nothing but regret, that didn't make it _wrong_, and there was no guarantee that the other path would have been any different. If there was one thing he was painfully aware of, it was _that_, because ever since he had come to Camelot, he had been forced to make choices, to choose sides, and even though he didn't believe that all of his choices were the right ones, they were still his, and in the end he had been able to accomplish the things he had needed to, the things he had wanted to. Despite his more than haphazard methods and occasional lack of confidence, he had never turned away, never given up, and even when he honestly believed that he couldn't do anything, he had still tried anyway for Arthur and for Camelot.

Just because he didn't believe he could do something didn't mean he couldn't, and no matter how often he regretted his actions, he could never regret his purpose.

When Merlin finally raised his head and met that soft gaze, he found himself looking back with something that felt a little like determination and a lot like acceptance.

"It seems you finally got it."

"…Not quite."

He knew now what he had to do, why he had to do it…but there was still one more thing he didn't understand, that one question that kept coming back—a single piece of the puzzle that kept getting overlooked.

"Oh? What is it?"

If he was going to do this, he had to know.

"Eiwyn. She sacrificed everything for this kingdom, for her people. You said that she loved them just as fiercely as they loved her, so tell me…why won't she lift the enchantment?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it (and again, sorry if some of that was confusing. I had a hard time finding the right words to convey what I wanted). We're actually getting really close to the end, maybe 5 or 6 more chapters, depending. We'll see :)

I'm sorry that I didn't get around to the review responses. I meant to, and then I kept being interrupted (and then I started playing a video game, which effectively sucked up my free time). I shall make a special effort this week though.

Please feel free to drop a review! I love hearing from you, and thanks so much for reading :)

Until next week!


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: **Hello all! Hope everyone's doing well :) Just want to say thank you for all the reviews, and that I thankfully had time to respond to all of them, including the anonymous ones (they're at the end of the chapter).

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language.  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know. Feel free to let me know if you see something.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin.

So, this chapter didn't turn out quite the way I had expected. I had to make a decision, and I ended up going with the option that I _didn't _have any dialogue pre-written for (I've been writing the dialogue on my breaks at work so that it doesn't take me so long to write these chapters on tuesdays). Oddly enough, things actually work better this way, and I should still be able to include all the scenes that I had wanted to next chapter. Hurray!

That being said, I hope this chapter turned out alright. It gave me a lot of trouble and didn't end anywhere near where I had wanted it to. However, this does mean that a lot will be happening next chapter. We're getting rather close to the end here.

Onward!

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 24<p>

"…I can't tell you."

Well, he certainly hadn't been expecting that, though a part of him realized that he probably should have been.

"What? Why not?" he asked, remembering at the last moment to keep his voice down. The last thing he wanted was to wake his friends. Even though they knew about Rhoshad, it wouldn't make the situation any less awkward. They could no longer see or hear him, after all.

"There are some things you have to figure out for yourself."

"But…"

"Just think about it. I've already told you everything you need to know."

In that moment Merlin couldn't help but wonder if Rhoshad had ever had the opportunity to meet any dragons in his life (assuming, of course, that all dragons were as cryptic and all-knowing as Kilgharrah). Maybe it was just the fate of all sentient creatures that lived for hundreds and hundreds of years to answer your questions without actually telling you what you wanted to know (though Rhoshad technically wasn't _alive_, he was close enough). Not for the first time he wondered why people couldn't just be straight with him when he asked a question. Honestly, how hard could it be?

However, it seemed that no matter how indignant his thoughts were towards the situation, Rhoshad wasn't about to change his mind. If Merlin wanted an answer, he was going to have to find it on his own. Unfortunately, he wasn't even sure where to start. He had absolutely nothing to go on, and no matter where his thoughts took him, he couldn't come up with a single logical reason for Eiwyn _not_ to lift the enchantment. There was no way she could actually be happy with the way things were despite the power that the enchantment had given her. During their few brief meetings, she had never once struck him as someone who was power hungry. There was no maliciousness, no ill intent, no desire for destruction or anything even remotely cruel. There _was_ curiosity—but then there was _always _curiosity, because that was just a part of human nature—and determination, a desire to protect, but above all there was sorrow and despair, loss…

She didn't want this. She didn't want any of it, so then why?

Why not let it end?

He wasn't sure how long he sat there just going over the story Rhoshad had told them, trying to find something that he had missed, something that didn't add up. He let his eyes stray around the room lazily while he mulled over his thoughts until they fell on something that he hadn't really paid any mind before. It had been one of the first things that they had noticed about the room during their initial inspection but something that they had never returned to afterwards.

Hanging from one of the pillars was a banner with an unfamiliar emblem. Clearly it was the symbol of Haulden, the royal family's crest. It looked a great deal like a tree, though it was one he had never seen before.

_Wait…a tree?_ Why did that sound familiar?

Hadn't Rhoshad mentioned something briefly about using a tree in his enchantment?

"Rhoshad," he called, making sure he had the ghost's attention. "Earlier, you mentioned something about a tree…"

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a smile break across the man's face, and he immediately knew that however farfetched and completely off tangent this seemed, he was clearly on the right track.

"Indeed I did. Back when the enchantment first began, I planted a single seed from a sacred tree in the inner courtyard of the castle."

"What kind of tree?"

"One that no longer exists in this world. I fear I don't even remember its name. Long ago there were quite a few of them spread throughout Haulden, but they became rather rare. I'm certain that the one in this castle is the last of its kind. You can see it there, on that crest. It was the symbol of the royal family."

He gestured to the banner as the soft smile on his face shifted into something more melancholy and wistful.

"The tree itself is beautiful, with bark the color of gold and leaves that shine like silver. In the light of the sun, it is truly one of the most wondrous sights you could ever hope to see. Many sorcerers used to carve staffs and charms from their branches, and not just because of their quality and beauty, but because of the magical properties in the wood. The trees were able to story magic as well as amplify its effects. When used right, they could even be used to purify the darkest of magic."

Purify? For some reason that word seemed to stick in his head. He felt like he was close to something, a thought that was at the very edge of his mind. He went back through everything he knew about the vale and all that Rhoshad had told him, because the answer had to be there. Rhoshad had said it himself that he had already given him all that he needed. The fact that he wouldn't answer directly meant that he couldn't, that it wouldn't work if he just told him. He had to figure it out for himself. Essentially he had all the answers but one, and yet that one seemed to be what everything was hinged on.

Why wouldn't Eiwyn lift the enchantment?

For some unknown reason, she didn't seem to want the enchantment to be lifted. The moment they had started poking around the castle, specifically around the staff and that strange door, she had intercepted them. However, she had originally deemed them all incapable of accomplishing anything…right up until Merlin had touched that door and his magic had reacted to whatever spell had been used on it. Apparently that had been enough to alert her. He wasn't sure how she had managed to miss the fact that he was a sorcerer during their previous encounter, but she certainly hadn't missed it after that.

Then again, now that he thought about it, maybe she had known all along, because logically, it just didn't make sense for her _not_ to know. At that time he had believed that it was his magic that she was referring to, that she had almost revealed, but now he couldn't help but wonder if it had been something else entirely. In that moment, had she been able to see what Rhoshad had, that he was someone with the potential to lift the enchantment?

_Why doesn't she want it to end?_ There _had_ to be a reason, something important, because he was certain that it had nothing to do with not wanting it to be removed and everything to do with believing it _couldn't_ be removed, because hadn't he seen her in that courtyard reaching for the staff? That morning when he had followed her (and either she had been too distracted to notice him or hadn't felt the need to bother), she had stood in front of that staff with such a sad, conflicted look on her face, and she had tried to reach for it before pulling her hand back.

She had wanted to take it, so why hadn't she? How many times had she stood there over the years and done the exact same thing? What was stopping her? Surely nothing but good could come from removing the staff, so why…?

"_That staff represents a choice, and all choices bear consequences."_

"_You already have the knowledge required to understand why the choice is a heavy one."_

The staff represented a choice: let the vale continue on as it has been or take it and lift the enchantment. That was the choice to be made, but the consequences…

If he left the staff alone, then nothing would change. The people of Haulden would never be free. Their souls would technically remain _safe_, contained within the vale, but at the same time it meant that all of them would die as well. One way or another, they wouldn't survive much longer. He couldn't let that happen, no matter what. It was his responsibility, his destiny to protect Arthur, and so he couldn't let him die here. He wouldn't let any of them die here. They _had_ to escape, and so he _had_ to get to that staff.

…But what would happen when the enchantment was lifted? What consequences could that possibly bear, because he could only see good coming from it. Sure, the enchantment wasn't necessarily a bad thing—it had been designed to protect, after all—but it's not like it was needed anymore, and…

The warlock sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes going wide as he turned to Rhoshad. His mind was suddenly buzzing, sorting through everything he knew, all his observations and all the information that Rhoshad had given him. When it all finally stopped and he arrived at the only possible destination his thoughts could lead him to, Rhoshad merely looked at him with a knowing gaze and nodded.

"So…" he began hesitantly, needing some sort of confirmation, something verbal that couldn't be denied. "So then…"

"Yes."

In that moment, he knew exactly what he needed to do. No more deliberation, no more contemplation. He had made his choice, and with an air of determination, he steeled himself for what had to be done.

"Rhoshad, is there a way to get past Eiwyn—a spell, anything that can keep me hidden from her long enough to grab the staff?"

"Well…if you knew a spell that could mask your presence, it might buy you enough time. Not much, but enough."

"Alright."

"Do you _know_ a concealing spell?"

"…Not really." He had never really thought about it before. He had looked once for something that could perhaps make him invisible, but he hadn't been able to find that either (and Gaius had asked him not to experiment with anything that he wouldn't be able to undo, because with their luck, something was bound to go wrong).

Before he could say anything more or ask Rhoshad if _he_ knew of a spell, the sorcerer vanished into thin air, leaving a very startled warlock staring at the empty space he had once occupied. It could only have been a matter of seconds before the man reappeared exactly where he had been, a book clutched in his hands.

"Here," he said, handing it over. "If memory serves, there should be one in there. Given your talent for magic, I don't imagine it'll take you long to learn it."

"Thank you."

He flipped the book open and scanned the pages quickly (with a little help from his magic), looking for anything that could mask his presence. It wouldn't be enough to turn invisible or to make it so that people wouldn't notice him. Eiwyn could sense everything in the vale whether she could see it or not. He had to make it seem as if he weren't there at all.

It only took a few minutes thanks to his magic-aided searching before he found something that looked promising.

"Found it?" Rhoshad asked, although it was obvious he already knew the answer.

"…I think so." What he had found was a spell to hide one's presence from any form of magic used to locate or track. It wouldn't do him any good if he were seen by someone, but as far as sensing went, he technically wouldn't exist. Eiwyn's ability was born through magic. It was because of the enchantment that she had so much power. For a while at least, he would be safe. She'd likely see through it eventually, but it had the potential to buy him the time he needed to reach the staff.

"Well, go on and try it then," the sorcerer urged. Merlin very quickly scanned the room to make sure that his friends were still asleep (though he was pretty sure Rhoshad wouldn't have asked him to cast it if they hadn't been) before taking a deep breath and reciting the incantation. When absolutely nothing happened, he tried again.

It was on his fifth try that he finally noticed something, but it was only thanks to Rhoshad that he realized it had worked. When the string of words had left his mouth, the man had jumped just a bit before looking at him strangely. He almost appeared to be squinting, as if he were trying to read something but couldn't get the words to stop blurring.

"Well?" Merlin asked, waiting for some sort of confirmation.

"I think it worked," Rhoshad told him quietly if not a little uncomfortably. "I can't…I can't feel you at all anymore. It's actually a bit unsettling…"

"Do you think this will let me get past Eiwyn?"

"It should, though you'll need to be careful. If she sees you, it's over, and it's likely that those creatures from before will be around as well. Attacking will delay them, but I fear not even the strongest of spells would be able to destroy them completely."

"Alright."

The warlock set the book down and got to his feet, stretching out his stiff muscles. He was about to take a step forward, his eyes focused on the door on the other side of the room, but a hand around his wrist quickly stopped him. Rhoshad was still sitting against the wall, looking up at him with a somewhat worried look on his face.

"You're _leaving_? Now?" he asked in disbelief, leaving Merlin just a little confused, because really, what had he been expecting?

"Of course."

"Aren't you going to tell them?"

Merlin glanced around the room, his eyes drifting to each one of his friends. The thought had crossed his mind briefly, but he had dismissed it rather quickly. He already knew how _that_ would turn out.

"If I tell them, they won't let me go…not alone, at least."

"You don't know that."

"But you do." He turned back to the sorcerer who was staring at him with an expression that almost made him look like he was pleading. "You _know_ how they'd react. They'll never let me leave them here to get the staff—the risk is too great this time. I can't tell them."

"…I still think you should."

"Rhoshad…"

"No, Merlin. This time, I think you should tell them. You don't need to explain why or how, but you should let them know. They all trust you, and even though _I_ know you trust them, they aren't as sure, and every time you lie to them will only make things that much harder in the end. Whenever you can, you should tell them the truth. No harm will come from it, and if they do choose to stop you or try to follow, I will find a way to keep them here. I promise."

"I…"

"…He's right, Merlin."

The warlock whipped around, nearly falling over since Rhoshad still had a firm grip on his wrist, though thankfully he only faltered for a moment before pulling himself together and locating the owner of that voice. Somehow he should have known that this would happen. After all, Lancelot knew him far too well and was still a bit of a light sleeper (he had been on his own for a long time, and some habits were hard to break).

"Lancelot? Why are you…can you actually…?"

"No, I can't hear him, but I think I have a pretty good idea of what you were talking about."

Merlin only heaved a sigh and lowered his head as Lancelot walked over with that far too familiar look on his face.

"How much did you hear?" he asked the knight.

"Enough to know that you're planning on going after that staff, and that I apparently won't be able to go with you this time. Taking anyone else along would only be a liability, wouldn't it."

"I'm afraid so, which is why I _can't_ tell them."

"You can, and I think you should. Just this once, tell Arthur the truth. I'm sure you can find a way to explain it without incriminating yourself. Just tell him. He'll understand."

He wanted to scoff at that, because he remembered Arthur's reaction to his story about the cup of life very clearly, and there was no way that he'd just let the warlock run off on his own again. Arthur had made it perfectly clear how he had felt about that whole incident. Honestly, he just couldn't win. If he told them, Arthur would yell at him for wanting to go alone, and if he didn't tell them, then he'd just be yelled at for "wandering off." He wasn't in much of a hurry to be berated again, but at the same time he knew that he _couldn't_ bring anyone else with him.

It seemed his options weren't all that desirable regardless of which choice he made. Either way he was probably going to be yelled at.

"Tell them, Merlin," he heard Rhoshad say from behind him, his voice pitched softly, comfortingly. "It'll be alright."

Between the determined expression in front of him and the pleading one at his back, he couldn't find it in himself to keep arguing, because he really didn't have much of a choice in the matter, did he? All he could do was accept defeat and pray that the upcoming conversation would go a lot better than he was expecting it to.

* * *

><p>All things considered, it could have been a lot worse, but it pretty much went <em>exactly<em> as he had expected it to…with one somewhat surprising exception. After all of his initial protests and demanding questions, Arthur had fallen blessedly quiet. He had no idea why, but he was thankful, because Gwaine and Elyan were doing enough protesting on their own.

This time around he hadn't bothered to beat around the bush. When morning dawned, he had woken all of them up and told them that he was going after the staff. He had explained to them how it had to be him, that he was the only one out of them that met the requirements, and that if he didn't do this, they were all going to be trapped in the vale until they died. He hadn't told them why he met the requirements, but in the end it hadn't been necessary, because none of them had dwelt too long on that. Most of the complaints came from the fact that he wanted to go alone.

"Look, I have to do this. I'm the only one who can, and I can't take any of you with me."

"You're not going out there alone, Merlin," Gwaine demanded, sounding every bit like the noble he was always pretending not to be.

"Those creatures might still be out there, and Eiwyn," Elyan told him worriedly. "If she finds you, she'll kill you."

"I already told you, Rhoshad and I figured it out. She won't find me, just like she can't find this room."

"Then I don't see why the same thing can't be done for the rest of us."

"It can only work for one person, and since I'm the only one who can reach the staff, it has to be me." It was a bit of a lie really, but seeing as how the explanation he had given involved Rhoshad using his abilities to hide him from Eiwyn, it was a reasonable answer. Technically he probably _could_ use the spell on all of them, but there was no way he was going to risk it. Also, if he were to run into trouble out there, he wouldn't be able to use his magic to get out of it if he had an audience. Besides, swords weren't going to work against those creatures. His friends would be helpless against them. He couldn't put them in danger like that.

As the argument continued, bouncing back and forth, Lancelot could do nothing but watch. He had backed Merlin up in the beginning, but Arthur and Gwaine had made it quite clear that they weren't going to listen to him…and then strangely enough, Arthur had gone quiet. He wasn't sure why, but after Merlin had yelled something at him (and probably at Rhoshad too) along the lines of "this is why I didn't want to tell them," the prince had snapped his mouth shut and hadn't opened it since.

It wasn't like Arthur to be quiet for so long, especially not while a rather heated debate took place right in front of him. He had been pretty adamant about Merlin _not_ going when it had all started, but now there was a very pensive, brooding look on his face. He didn't seem to be paying the argument much attention at all, his eyes fixed downward on the floor, but he still seemed to be listening nonetheless. As strange as it was, his silence was probably a good thing. It meant that he was thinking things through instead of just going with what _he_ wanted.

The prince had truly come a long way, had grown into someone who truly would be a great king one day, and though the process was a slow one, he was also learning how to become a better friend. He had learned a great deal on this quest, and Lancelot only hoped that he would remember it all when the next big threat came to Camelot, would remember that Merlin could be counted on, could be trusted whenever he came with news of some sort of threat. Arthur was good at forgetting things, at slipping back into old habits without even realizing it sometimes, but that didn't mean it wasn't all still there. He just needed to be reminded from time to time, but Lancelot got the feeling that he would be trying harder from now on. This wasn't an event that any of them were likely to forget.

Pulling his attention away from the prince and turning it back towards Merlin, the knight could tell that he was starting to grow tired of it all. The warlock kept glancing at the door as if he were contemplating just making a break for it, and he also kept looking off to the side. Rhoshad was likely standing there somewhere, although he had no way of knowing whether the sorcerer was looking on in amusement or regret (or maybe even some strange mixture of both).

Perhaps Merlin would have been better off just sneaking out after all. All they were doing right now was wasting time.

Deciding that enough was enough, he waited for a moment to jump back in, to try and help Merlin. Elyan had thankfully stopped, but Gwaine was stubborn, and in all honesty, Lancelot couldn't really blame him for his concern. After all, the warlock had been Gwaine's first real friend, one of his _only_ friends, and at times he could be extremely protective of him. Even though Merlin was trying his best to hide it, it was easy to see that he was still tired, that he hadn't had nearly enough rest to make up for everything he had been through. It was understandable that Gwaine didn't want him to go out there on his own. There was a good chance that none of them would ever see him again if he did.

However, if he didn't go, then nothing would change. Merlin was doing this for so many reasons, and they couldn't fault him for it. If he didn't do this, then they would never be able to go home. If things stayed the way they were, then all those people would never be able to pass on. This was necessary. Merlin needed to do this, and sending someone with him would only slow him down.

He had to go alone, and the rest of them needed to understand that.

"Please," he heard Merlin say for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour, his voice pleading and tired. "You have to let me do this."

Gwaine was just about to say something, and Lancelot was ready to intercept when both of them were cut off in a way that none of them had been expecting.

"…Alright."

They all fell silent and turned to Arthur, none of them quite believing what they had just heard. The prince was no longer looking pensive with his head bowed but was instead staring right at Merlin with a look that none of them could quite read. His gaze was intense and firm, resolute while still seeming reluctant, but there was something else there, something far harder to see. It looked a great deal like trust, but that wasn't quite right.

If Lancelot didn't know any better, he would have called it faith.

"Alright, Merlin," the prince said, looking right at the warlock, and in that moment he must have understood whatever it was that Arthur was trying to convey, because the shock melted right off leaving only determination in its wake. "Go."

"Thank you," Merlin said with a small smile but a lot of gratitude as he moved past a still shocked Gwaine and began heading for the entrance.

"Merlin," Arthur called just as he reached the door. Even from where he stood, Lancelot could see the warlock's hand shaking a bit as he gripped the handle.

Merlin glanced over his shoulder at them, waiting for whatever it was that Arthur wanted to say.

"You _will_ come back."

It wasn't a question. There was no uncertainty, no pleading, but it wasn't exactly a command or a request either despite the authority it had been said with. The prince sounded sure of himself, as if it were a fact, as if there just wasn't another option or at least not one that he could accept. Some would call it arrogance or perhaps even ignorance to some extent, but all Lancelot could come up with was a single word.

Trust.

"Of course," Merlin told him, because even though it wasn't a question, that didn't mean he couldn't answer.

"Good, because if you don't, we'll be coming after you. Understood?"

"Yes, sire," he said with a smile, letting a bit of that insolence he was so well known for slip in. He gave the four of them one last look before he opened the door and stepped into the stairwell, leaving the comfort and safety of their sanctuary.

When the door slammed closed behind him, they were all snapped out of whatever reverie they had been in, and true to form, Gwaine turned on Arthur in a heartbeat.

"Why?" he demanded, glaring at the prince. "How can you just let him go out there? He'll get himself killed!"

The knight was already on his way towards the door when Arthur stopped him with nothing more than a few words and a voice full of conviction.

"Because I trust him."

Gwaine froze just as he began reaching for the handle, glancing back at their prince who in that moment looked every inch the king that Merlin was always saying he would be.

"Yesterday, you told Merlin that you trusted him," Arthur continued. "If you were telling the truth, then stand down, Gwaine."

For a moment no one moved as they all let those words sink in, because that's what it all really came down to, wasn't it? In some ways, it probably always would.

For a while it looked like their hot-tempered friend wasn't going to listen, but in the end the knight took a deep, calming breath and lowered his arm before turning away from the door. He didn't look happy about it, and he was still scowling when he took a seat at the table, but at least he wasn't about to run out there and chase down Merlin.

Lancelot heaved a mental sigh of relief, allowing himself to relax now that most of the tension was gone, but he still couldn't help but wonder what had changed Arthur's mind. He wanted to ask, but at the same time he wasn't sure if such a question would be taken well or not. The prince wasn't the type of person to explain himself when the reason was a personal one.

In the end though, he didn't need to even bother, because Elyan beat him to it. Apparently he wasn't the only one a bit baffled by their leader's sudden decision.

"Sire," he began cautiously, "if I may…why did you let him go? What changed your mind?"

Arthur, with his arms crossed rather firmly, looked at each one of them before turning his attention back towards the door. He didn't say anything at first, and Lancelot was almost certain he wouldn't tell them anything at all, but after a while the prince sighed in defeat and leant back against a nearby pillar, keeping his back firmly turned to all of them as he began to speak.

"He was going to leave without telling us. He had every intention of going out there without saying anything, because he believed we wouldn't let him go if we knew. He's done it before—hidden things from me, gone off on his own, just like with Morgana and the cup of life."

They all remembered that story. They had all been listening, after all. Merlin had told Arthur exactly how the immortal army had been defeated, and the prince had yelled at him for not saying anything, for not telling him, for not letting him go with. Merlin had known what would happen if he told Arthur, and so he hadn't. Instead he had gone off with every intention of handling it alone, not wanting to condemn anyone else to whatever fate befell him. That's just the way he was, and that fact wasn't likely to change, but this time…

This time he had decided to tell them. After his tale about the cup of life, Arthur had asked him to tell him the next time something happened, had even promised to listen. Merlin had done exactly that, had chosen to tell them all instead of hiding it, and they had reacted exactly the way he had likely been expecting them to, proving that perhaps he had every reason to keep things hidden from them, because apparently they couldn't trust him enough to truly listen.

What remained of Gwaine's anger faded almost instantly as he realized exactly what they had been doing. Merlin had come to them, choosing to trust them with the truth, and instead of listening to him, they had all started yelling, telling him what to do and what he couldn't do. Everything they had said had been said out of concern for their friend, but to Merlin it must have felt like they didn't trust him, that they weren't willing to let him handle something so important on his own.

Merlin was a brave man and had proven that he was more than capable of facing things like this. He was the only one who could reach that staff, and if they had any respect for him at all, they couldn't interfere.

"I _had_ to let him go," said Arthur, and only now that he was looking for it could Gwaine see how tightly those arms were crossed, how tense his shoulders were, and how every word was firm but tainted with barely concealed frustration. Arthur was just as worried as the rest of them (even though he'd never admit to such a thing). It looked like he was barely holding himself back from running out that door, and yet he had decided to wait.

How could the rest of them possibly do any differently?

So even though he hated it, Gwaine wasn't one to be shown up, especially not by Arthur, and therefore he would wait (for now, anyway). After all, Merlin had promised that once he had the staff, he would come back to the tower. The least they could do was be there when he got back.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So, I hope that despite the lack of stuff actually happening that the chapter was still worth the wait. I don't know if I actually answered any questions in here, but there are some things I want to keep vague. I like to keep everyone guessing, after all :)

Review Responses: Whenever I make it through all of the signed reviews, I always add a section for the anonymous ones too, 'cause I like being able to say thank you. Every review, no matter what the content, means a great deal to me :)

kaykit: Thank you for the review! If you can't tell, that's my favorite emoticon (I think that's the word) ever, so thank you. I'm glad you're enjoying my fic :)

Ebonypol: Thanks for the review :) Glad you liked the chapter. I think I'm having way too much fun with this fic. I just wish I could update more often (even though tuesday tends to sneak up on me each week :) Hopefully this chapter was just as enjoyable :)

Reshma: Thanks for the review :) Fair point, but one of the things I love about this series is the fact that they actually haven't mentioned much about the technicalities of magic (especially where Merlin is concerned). It gives us a lot to play with (I personally really like Alaia Skyhawk's take on it :) I do favor the thought that Merlin has a limit of some kind, because even though he's powerful, he's still human, and it's never actually been stated one way or another whether he has a true limit or not. Plus Merlin hasn't been in the greatest shape in this fic (I'm a sucker for whump :), and I can't imagine that lending that much raw power to someone wouldn't be taxing. That's just my take on it though. I rather like playing with different theories (though I really do love Alaia's and rather wish it was canon. It's rather brilliant :)

So I guess that's all for now! Until next week!


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N:** Hello again! This time it's only 2 in the morning instead of 3, and I thankfully don't work tomorrow (but I do have an appointment at 10. Curse me and my early appointments)! This would have been done so much sooner, but I was trying to write while watching my sis play Disgaea 4. I spent far more time laughing than writing, but it was fun, and that's all that matters :)

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language.  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know. Feel free to let me know if you see something.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin :)

Not much to say this time other than thank you for the reviews :) I think I was able to get to all of them this time too, although for some reason I haven't been getting my alerts. It's a bit bothersome. And thank you to those who responded to my responses (that sounded a bit weird...). I know that I don't really respond back again, but I do get them and I do like them as well (I'm just not good at conversations). So thank you :)

As always, if you find any errors, please point them out and I shall fix them. It's late, and my eyes are tired, so I don't know how well I did with finding them all :)

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 25<p>

When the door closed behind him and he was left standing all alone in a silent stairwell, Merlin immediately found himself missing the warmth and safety of the room and the people he was leaving behind. A part of him wanted nothing more than to turn around and go back, but he knew that wasn't an option. He had made up his mind that he was going to do this, and so no matter what it took, he wouldn't be returning without that staff. It was their only hope for salvation.

Taking a deep breath, he began to make his way down the stairs, trying to remain as quiet as he possibly could. He had to be careful and he needed to pay attention to his surroundings, because the spell he had used would only be able to protect him for so long (Rhoshad had made it clear that there was every possibility that Eiwyn would still manage to find him eventually), and it wouldn't work at all if someone or something were to see him. It was imperative that he remained cautious, and he could only pray that nothing unfortunate would happen along the way. He hadn't had much luck this past year with his stealthier endeavors (it seemed he was forever making too much noise or knocking something over…or both). The last thing he needed was to accidentally alert something—like one of those creatures, for example—to his presence.

It was a little bit strange, really, to be back in the vale after spending so much time cooped up in Rhoshad's tower. He had never noticed before just how cold the air was or how still everything felt. It was even stranger now, because he could no longer feel the magic all around him or hear the voices that had been so very present before. He had been associating both of those things with the vale ever since he had arrived, and so the castle just sort of felt empty without them. It was just so unnaturally quiet, and it made him feel like something was missing.

Knowing he didn't have time to bother with his own discomfort at the moment, Merlin finished his descent from the tower and arrived in a long hallway. He couldn't see or hear anything moving around, so he made his way carefully down it, sticking close to the wall just in case he needed to duck into one of the rooms or behind a collapsed pillar. He was tempted to use his magic to help him in some way, but he knew that any spell other than the one already on him would likely be dangerous. Eiwyn could move freely through the vale, and she would surely find him if he used his magic. Her will was absolute within the barrier, and it was an absolute miracle that he was able to hide from her at all.

When he reached the corner, he stopped and peered around it. Seeing that the coast was clear, he quickly ran over to the wall and began to make his way slowly down another corridor. So far everything was going well—he hadn't found anything that was linked to Eiwyn—but unfortunately luck never seemed to be on his side for long. About halfway down the hall he was forced to stop and quickly duck behind a fallen pillar just as one of the beasts emerged from a hole in the far wall. It was just as large and just as dangerous as he remembered, its body made up of mist but with claws and teeth that were every bit as solid and lethal as they looked

As it walked down the corridor, Merlin was quick to note that it didn't make a sound. It was walking lightly enough that there wasn't even the soft padding of its feet or the scraping of its claws against the stone. It was completely silent aside from the quiet growling noises it made as it moved its head this way and that, clearly looking for something. He wondered if the creatures had been patrolling ever since all of them had disappeared within the tower. If they had, then they certainly were persistent, although it was probably just Eiwyn who was the persistent one.

Pressing himself as closely as he could to the pillar, he did his best to control his breathing and to not move a muscle. If he stayed quiet and didn't attract any attention, then maybe the beast wouldn't notice him. He realized that he was going to have to be far more careful to remain undetected since he probably wouldn't be able to hear the creatures approaching until it was too late. They were apparently very good at moving quietly.

He waited there for what felt like forever before the four-legged monstrosity finally walked off down a different corridor. He stayed where he was for just a moment longer before sighing in relief and continuing on his way. The courtyard was still a good distance off from where he was, but as long as he wasn't interrupted too often, it wouldn't take long to reach it. He was a little surprised that he could still remember how to get there, but all things considered, it certainly wasn't the strangest thing that had happened. He did have a fairly good memory, after all.

As he continued on his way, ducking around corners, into rooms, and behind rubble whenever necessary, his thoughts kept drifting back to his friends who were all waiting for him to return. He just hoped that no matter how long it took him, they would stay there. Lancelot had promised to do what he could to convince them to wait, and Rhoshad had also said that he would do everything in his power to keep them there. The last thing Merlin wanted was for them to be placed in danger because of him.

When he was forced once again to throw himself into an unused room and take shelter behind a pile of rubble, he prayed that just this once their patience would hold out until he got back, because he got the feeling that this might take a bit longer than he had originally intended.

Failing that, maybe Rhoshad could just knock them all out for a bit.

One could only hope.

* * *

><p>"…He's been gone for a while now."<p>

It was said softly, almost as if the knight had been muttering it to himself instead of speaking to the room at large, but it was easily heard in the otherwise quiet space. Lancelot raised his head and turned towards Elyan, but the man didn't seem inclined to elaborate or add anything else to his statement. He was just staring at the door, waiting like the rest of them, and unfortunately what he had said was indeed the truth.

Merlin had been gone for more than an hour now (or close to. It was hard to tell what time it was in the vale).

It was pretty easy to tell that everyone's patience was starting to wear thin, and the longer it took, the more tense they all became. He wasn't sure if any of them were aware of it or not, but their eyes were all glued to the door, and where before they had only been watching it for brief moments here and there, now they never seemed to look away. All of them were just waiting for it to open, but that simple task was becoming more and more difficult by the minute.

He would have been lying if he said that he wasn't worried, that he wasn't just as anxious as the rest of them obviously were. Sure, he was well aware that Merlin was capable of taking care of himself when it mattered, but he also knew that magic couldn't solve everything. There would be no one there to watch his back, to keep him from doing something reckless. Merlin was powerful, but he was also human, and there was every chance that he could get himself killed out there. He wanted nothing more than to help him, but he also knew that the best way to do that was to stay where he was and wait.

That didn't make it any easier though.

Lancelot pulled his attention away from Elyan and the door for a moment and looked over towards the other two members of their group. He was actually kind of surprised that they hadn't tried to leave yet. Arthur was still standing against the same pillar with his arms crossed, drumming his fingers rhythmically in a sign of frustration and restlessness. Not too far away Gwaine was sitting at the table and tapping his foot for the very same reasons. Both of them were wound so tightly that it seemed like just the slightest thing could potentially set them off. They were the types to let their concern take the form of anger or agitation, and he wasn't about to be the catalyst for such an event. It was far better to just leave them alone and let them deal with it themselves.

Under less dire circumstances, it would have been fun to place bets on whose patience would wear out first, but this wasn't the time or the place for such frivolities.

In the end though, it turned out to be Gwaine.

Everyone's attention was drawn by the sudden sound of wood scraping against the floor and chain links clinking together at the knight stood up with an air of finality and determination.

"That's it," he said as he began walking across the room.

"Gwaine—" Lancelot called, trying to come up with a way to stop him, but he knew his attempt was half-hearted at best, because despite all of his logic and common sense telling him that this was a bad idea, a part of him wanted to go out there and find Merlin, to make sure that his friend was okay.

"He should've been back by now," Gwaine said, his attention solely focused on the door.

"Where are you going?" Elyan asked, but Lancelot got the feeling that all of them already knew the answer to that question.

"I'm tired of waiting. I don't know about you, but I'm not going to just sit back and let Merlin get himself killed out there." He was almost to the door, his hand already reaching for the handle.

"Gwaine, wait," Lancelot began, knowing that he at least had to try for Merlin's sake. "Don't you remember? We can't leave this room."

"I don't care." He grabbed the handle and began to push against the door.

"Gwaine!" His reprimand fell on deaf ears, but it didn't really matter, because something was clearly wrong. When pushing the door didn't work, the knight tried pulling on the handle as well, but nothing happened.

"…It won't open," Gwaine suddenly said, sounding more confused than frustrated as he continued to jiggle the handle, trying to get the door to move in some way. His lack of success quickly drew Arthur's attention.

"What?" he exclaimed as the prince made his way over to the door, looking just as baffled and irritated. He practically shouldered Gwaine out of the way before trying the door himself only to find that no matter what he did, it wouldn't move. "It won't even budge."

"Is it locked?" Elyan asked as he also made his way over to examine the door with Lancelot following shortly after.

"It doesn't have a lock," Arthur told them, still trying to force the door to open. Merlin had been able to open it easily enough, so there was no reason why they shouldn't be able to, unless…

Unless something—or in this case some_one_—was stopping them. In hindsight, it was rather obvious. There was really only one person it could possibly be. He had no proof, of course, but Lancelot was almost certain that his theory was right.

Strangely enough, Gwaine seemed to have stumbled upon the same realization that he had.

"Wait…" the knight began thoughtfully before turning his attention towards the open room around them. "Hey, Rhoshad!"

That quickly drew the rest of their attention away from the door as well, all three of them watching as Gwaine walked further into the room, looking around as if he were searching for something.

"You're here, right? Just because we can't see you doesn't mean you're not there. How about you open that door so I can find Merlin?"

There was no response, but then again it was impossible to receive one. None of them could see Rhoshad or hear him, at least not without Merlin there to act as a medium of sorts. On their own they couldn't interact with the ghost at all…but was it perhaps possible for Rhoshad to somehow interact with them? He already knew that the sorcerer was aware of everything they did and said, which meant that he was probably watching them at that very moment. It had to be frustrating not to be able to talk to them, to explain himself. He could only imagine what had to be going through his head.

"…Alright then," Gwaine said when no answer was forthcoming. "Guess I'll just have to knock it down."

As the knight started to look for something suitable to ram the wooden door with, Rhoshad was starting to panic. Yes, he had been able to keep them from opening the door, but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop them from destroying it. He knew that they were only acting this way because they were worried about Merlin, but he couldn't let them leave no matter what. He had promised the warlock that he would do whatever he could to keep them there, but unlike Eiwyn, he was limited with what he could actually do. He could occasionally interact with objects in the room, sure, but there was nothing he could actually do _to_ the knights aside from throwing something at them (and he wasn't about to knock them out. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt them).

The ghost quickly looked around for something that could be used to get their attention, a way for him to communicate, because if he didn't hurry, then there was every chance that Gwaine would succeed in finding a way to knock down that door. His attention was quickly drawn by the papers scattered all over the floor and the inkwell perched on the table. Technically he could use them, but writing a message would take a while, at least with just his hands.

But maybe if he were to use magic…

_Yes, that should work._

The sorcerer quickly used what little magic he still had access to in order to lift the papers off the floor, creating what looked and sounded a lot like a small gale. Needless to say he immediately drew everyone's attention with such a display. He then quickly stilled the papers in midair and used the ink to write his message. This way he'd be able to make the words appear at the same rate that he was speaking them. It was faster and far more reliable than trying to use a quill (and he had learned throughout the years of his isolation that he couldn't always touch things, and when he could, it usually wasn't for very long).

Seeing that he had their attention, he quickly began talking, and thankfully the words appeared large enough for them to read without needing to be right in front of the papers.

"Please wait," he said, watching as their eyes widened at the sight before them. He sighed in relief, grateful that it was actually working. All four of them were coming closer, moving further and further away from the door.

It was a little strange really, because other than surprise and a bit of bewilderment, he couldn't really feel anything else coming from them. There was no disbelief, no fear, no anxiety. He had been half expecting them to draw their swords or to start looking for some approaching attack, but they hadn't done any such thing. They were a little wary, yes, but unafraid. For the most part they seemed to know who was addressing them even though they couldn't see him.

"I'm sorry," he began, the words appearing on the paper, "but I can't let you leave this room. If you go out there, Eiwyn will find you. Please, just wait here."

He wasn't at all surprised that out of the four of them, it was Gwaine who chose to address him first, that air of determination and concern still present.

"Merlin's been gone too long," he said firmly, watching the mass of papers for a response, and Rhoshad certainly didn't disappoint.

"I know, but you don't need to worry. He's alright. He and I are connected. If anything happens to him, I'll know about it."

In some ways it was a lie, because at the moment he couldn't feel Merlin at all. However, that meant that the spell was still in effect, which also meant that he was safe. He had yet to reach the staff, but at the very least he hadn't bee noticed yet. For now he was alright, and that was all they needed to know. There was no point in divulging any further details.

"You're sure?"

"Yes. I assure you, he's alright."

The four men before him all seemed to calm down considerably, all thoughts of leaving the room thankfully forgotten in the wake of their relief. He couldn't help but smile at them even though they couldn't see him. There was so much care, so much trust between them and their warlock. They had been willing to go out there, to face almost certain death just to make sure that Merlin was alright. These men were loyal and kind even if they didn't always show it.

_Merlin. I wonder if you realize just how important you are to them._

Seeing as how certain disaster had been successfully avoided, Rhoshad was ready to bid them farewell and end his spell, but he could tell that there was still something weighing heavily on their minds. Even Lancelot, who knew more about the situation than the rest, seemed to have something he wanted to ask. He didn't dare leave them with too many unanswered questions, because there was no telling what they would try in order to get his attention again, so he simply waited until they were ready to ask.

In the end it was Arthur who spoke up first, voicing one of the many questions that all of them had in common.

"Rhoshad," he began, "is there any way you can help him? More than you already have, I mean."

He wanted to be able to say that he could, that at the very least he'd be able to lead him away from danger, but he just couldn't. He wasn't about to lie to them about something so important.

"…No. I'm sorry. I fear my magic doesn't extend that far outside of this room. The most I can do is watch over him and keep him hidden from Eiwyn. Once he takes the staff, he'll be protected, but until then there is nothing more I can do."

"…Why Merlin?"

It was said so quietly that it was hard to tell whether Arthur had actually meant to ask it or not, but either way it didn't matter. He would have been able to hear it even without the prince actually speaking the words. It was unnecessary when interacting with a spirit like him. There wasn't even a need to elaborate, because he already knew exactly what the prince wanted to know—what they _all_ wanted to know.

"I think you already know the answer to that question," he told them, watching as their eyes followed along with his words. "Merlin is the most unselfish person I have ever met, and unlike so many others, he understands the weight that comes with making a choice. Anyone who wishes to take my staff cannot approach it lightly or with a sense of self-righteousness. It must be taken by someone with an honest heart, someone who doesn't lie to themselves or pretend to be someone they're not, and who is capable of making a choice not because they believe it's right but because it's theirs, because they can accept no other outcome."

He wasn't sure how else to say it, how he could possibly put it into words, but he didn't need to tell them everything. He got the feeling that they understood on some level, that they were able to see the same things that he could in the young warlock. Merlin was an extraordinary person even without his magic.

"I'm sorry. It's hard to explain, but please, just trust in him. Everything will be alright."

He knew that he wasn't going to be able to do this for much longer; he could already feel his magic waning. Most of it went to keeping his soul attached to the tower and to protecting the area from Eiwyn. He couldn't risk overreaching himself, not when he had people to look after.

He was about to bid them farewell, to tell them one last time to stay in the room and that Merlin would be fine, but before he could open his mouth, something strange happened. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before, and it was enough of a shock that his spell ended, the papers all fluttering to the ground.

Rhoshad staggered back a few steps, feeling like someone had just punched him in the stomach, and wasn't that an odd sensation seeing as how he hadn't been able to feel any sort of pain for hundreds of years (and he was fairly certain that even whilst alive that he had never actually been punched in the stomach before). It was an odd sensation, one that echoed through his entire being, and it felt _wrong_.

Something had happened.

Frantically he began reaching out with his senses, looking for Merlin, because he knew that something wasn't right, could feel it through the connection they shared, however faint it had become thanks to that spell.

Were he still able to breathe, his breath would have surely caught at what he found.

With a trembling voice he called out across the vale, praying for an answer—anything to reassure him, to let him know that he hadn't just given out his word in vain, that everything _would_ be alright.

_Merlin…?_

He waited for an answer, ignoring the confusion he could feel from the knights as they stared down at the scattered papers across the floor.

There was no response.

All he found was silence.

* * *

><p>Merlin cursed under his breath as he was forced to hide for what felt like the hundredth time when yet another of the beasts stalked across the hallway. Just how many of them were there? It seemed like every corner he turned he ran into another one. They were everywhere! His only saving grace was that they weren't as capable as normal animals seeing as how they were relying mostly on their sense of sight and sound, two things that he had been careful with while making his way towards the courtyard. It also seemed that his spell was still in effect since Eiwyn had yet to show up. Thank goodness for small miracles.<p>

He was pretty sure it had been well over an hour now since he had left the tower, and he still hadn't reached his destination thanks to the overwhelming amount of obstacles in his way. He just hoped that his friends were behaving and that Lancelot and Rhoshad were doing their best to keep everyone in that room. The last thing he needed was for all of them to come looking for him. They'd only end up getting themselves killed, and he really wasn't in any position to save them. He was having a hard enough time looking after himself.

As soon as the beast was out of sight, Merlin made a run for the nearest pillar, taking refuge behind it as he tried to figure out what the best path to take would be. He wasn't far off now, but he needed to make a choice about how to get there. He could either stick to the corridors or take a chance and head outside. The corridors would take longer, but at least he'd be able to find shelter if one of the creatures appeared. Outside he wouldn't have that luxury, but he'd also be able to reach the staff quicker. All he had to do was make a run for it.

In the end he decided to just go for it. He was most likely running out of time, both with his spell and in regards to his friends' patience. This needed to end, and he couldn't keep wasting time. The courtyard was just beyond that wall, and there was a hole big enough for him to fit through. With any luck he'd be able to reach it without being seen.

Making sure that the coast was clear, the warlock took a deep breath and took off, his attention solely focused on the gap in the wall. He avoided every obstacle in his way, swerved around every pillar, all the while hoping that he wouldn't trip over a pile of ruble or a catch in the floor or his own two feet, because he didn't have time to pick himself back up again if he were to fall. The noise alone would likely alert one of the beasts to his location, and then he'd be done for.

He didn't bother to look down either corridor as he practically threw himself through the opening and then continued running towards the courtyard. Not once did he stop or slow down, his attention focused solely on reaching his goal, and before he knew it he caught sight of a familiar monument. It was exactly the same as before, a stone platform surrounded by four pillars, a chain connected to each one, and at the center was Rhoshad's staff, suspended by the four chains.

Merlin didn't stop running until he reached the pillars, and when he did it wasn't entirely by choice. The moment he stepped between them, a rush of what could only be magic slammed into him, forcing him to stop. He would have thought that it was a barrier of some kind or that the staff was perhaps rejecting his approach, but there was nothing painful about the sensation nor was it restricting.

Strangely enough it almost seemed to be welcoming him, washing over him in waves and beckoning him closer. It was comforting in a way, and he found himself taking a moment to just breathe it in and gather his thoughts. He needed to, because despite everything that he had been told about the staff and what it represented, he still wasn't sure if he could do this. It just seemed too easy, and he had learned a long time ago to be wary of the easiest paths, for they were rarely worthwhile and often brought more harm than good.

What if he couldn't do this? What if he made a mistake? What if Rhoshad was wrong and his motives weren't actually all that selfless? What if he just wasn't good enough to fix things, to save them all? He was only one person, after all. It couldn't possibly be that simple, surely, because weren't things that seemed too good to be true exactly that?

…But still…_still_…in the end, did it really matter? After all, he had already made up his mind. No matter what the cost, he would always take the same path, the one that led back to Arthur, back to Camelot, because it was his duty to protect his prince and the kingdom that they both loved. That would always be his choice, and even though it wasn't easy and sometimes didn't even feel right, it didn't matter, because it was still _his_, and he would never regret that.

_I don't really have a choice, do I?_

He had to take the staff regardless of the consequences. He could do nothing else. It just wasn't in him to give up and walk away.

He stepped between the pillars, and Rhoshad's magic welcomed him just as openly as the man himself, and with no further hesitation, Merlin reached for the chained staff.

He didn't notice the danger approaching until it was far too late.

The moment his hand brushed against the carved wood, he heard the sound of pounding steps and rustling grass, quiet panting and a predatory howl. He didn't bother to waste time looking behind him, because he knew what was coming. Instead he threw himself forward and onto the platform, reaching with everything he had and praying that he wouldn't fail. The sounds were growing louder, becoming more, and he didn't have time to worry about whether this would work or not. He simply had to believe it would.

His hand closed around the wooden staff just as Eiwyn's creatures reached the platform, and the magic from it reacted to his touch, pushing into him, _through_ him, and then exploding into the world around him. There was a blinding light followed by a sharp, searing pain…and then nothing.

Everything fell silent.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I'm sorry! I couldn't help it! Please don't hurt me (does it help at all if I say that I didn't plan on ending it there? No? Darn). I had actually intended to add another section, but it would have made the chapter too long, and this was a far better place to stop for now (and I know that I still haven't answered that one burning question, but I'll get there next week for sure, promise :)

Review Responses: Thank you for all the reviews. They really make my week :) And like before, I want to be able to answer all of them, so this little area is for all the ones I couldn't respond to with the PM :) Plus I just like talking to people even though I'm not always that good at it :)

kaykit: Tis very true :) It's one of the reasons I try to smile as much as I can (and it's probably why I end up throwing in so many smilies without quite realizing it). I rather like that one too( ;P). I tend to use it on my best friend a lot :)

asdf: Thank you! Glad you think so. I really do love character development, especailly where Arthur is concerned. There's just so much that can be done with him. And oh, if only :) I think that would probably make my life. Anyway, I hope this chapter was just as enjoyable as the last. It certainly was fun to write :)

So anyway, thank you to everyone reading, and I hope you're still enjoying the fic. Only a few chapters left to go!

Until next week!


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N:** So, here we go again. It's late, and I'm tired, so I'm going to keep this short tonight.

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language.  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know. Feel free to let me know if you see something.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin.

I'm sorry I didn't get around to writing the responses for the last chapter. I'll try to make time for it this week, though the odds aren't good since I'll be out of town for most of it. Hurray for anime conventions! I'm really looking forward to it :)

So I didn't cover quite as much as I had wanted to with this chapter (this shouldn't surprise anyone anymore). This fic will likely be just 2 more chapters now. That's what I'm aiming for anyway :)

Onward!

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 26<p>

…_Mer…-lin…Mer-lin…Merlin…_

The warlock very slowly opened his eyes—he didn't remember closing them—and found that the world was apparently still bathed in white. He groaned and did his best to turn away from it even if all he could really do was shift his head at the moment. Everything was just too bright, so he quickly shut his eyes again and welcomed the darkness, hoping it would be better the next time he opened him.

_Merlin…_

For the life of him, he couldn't seem to recall what had happened. He remembered getting to the courtyard and reaching for the staff, his fingers just barely grazing the wood before one of Eiwyn's creatures had found him. He had desperately thrown himself onto the platform to grab the staff, but he couldn't seem to recall anything after that other than a sharp pain in his side and a blinding white light. Everything had fallen silent after that.

…_Merlin._

With, of course, the exception of that voice that kept saying his name. Someone was calling him…or shouting at him. Same thing, really. Nothing he wasn't already used to.

_Merlin!_

He knew that voice—well, sort of, anyway. It had been a while since he had heard it like that. He had grown used to hearing it in tones and volumes instead of thoughts and emotions. It was echoing in his head, not his ears, and he could tell that he was being called to rather frantically. It would probably be best to answer. He didn't want to make him worry, after all.

…_Rhoshad?_

There was a sense of relief that suddenly filled him, an emotion not quite his own, and even though he couldn't see the ghost, he was pretty sure that he had just heaved a very relieved sigh.

_Merlin…thank the gods, you're alright._

_What happened?_

_I was rather hoping you could tell me._

The warlock thought about it for a moment, but he still couldn't grasp exactly what was going on. It felt a lot like he was floating at the moment, but there was one thing he could feel—one thing he knew with absolute certainty: he had reached the staff. The very moment he had wrapped his hand around it, the chains that had been holding it up had shattered in that flash of light, releasing it into his care. He was clutching it in both hands, cradling it close like a lifeline, and for all he knew that's exactly what it was. There was power there, flowing through it and into him, protecting him just like Rhoshad had said it would, but there was something else there as well, something he hadn't been expecting.

Memories.

Contained within the magic were thoughts and feelings, memories, desires, wishes…everything that made Rhoshad who he was. His magic was a reflection of himself, warm and comforting, determined, hopeful, with a desire to protect. He had learned long ago when he had faced Nimueh that magic could often take on the characteristics of the one commanding it, that it was possible to read a person through their magic and judge their intent, their heart. Hers had been powerful but selfish, cruel and vengeful, and through their brief encounters he had been able to see just what kind of person she had allowed herself to become.

He prayed he would never reach that point, that his magic would never become so twisted. No matter what he was forced to do while protecting Arthur, he would never let his magic be tainted in such a way. That being said, he couldn't help but wonder what his own magic felt like to other sorcerers, if it was as clear a reflection of his heart as Rhoshad's was, because through that staff he could feel everything. All the realizations he had made before setting off became that much clearer, and the one question he still had, that Rhoshad never gave him an answer to, was no longer an issue. He finally understood.

_Merlin, what is it?_

…_There's something I need you to tell me. It's about Eiwyn._

There was no point beating around the bush. It had been bothering him ever since Rhoshad had told them his story, and now that he knew the answer, he wanted an explanation, to know why.

_She doesn't know, does she…that she could break the enchantment. _It wasn't a question, because he already knew the truth, but nonetheless he wanted to hear it for himself, to be told. Through their connection, he could feel the melancholy coming from Rhoshad, could practically see the sad, wistful smile on the man's face as he spoke.

_No, although I'm certain there have been times where she was tempted to try._

_How come you never told her?_

_Because at first I didn't know. I wasn't aware that my magic would grant her that ability, and by the time I finally understood, I was already dead._

_But why didn't you explain it to her from the beginning? You should have told her what you were planning to do instead of just doing it._ More than anything else, that's what was bothering him about the whole thing. If Rhoshad had only told Eiwyn that he could lift the enchantment, that everything would be okay, then he wouldn't have ended up dead and Haulden would have been set free. None of this would be happening. All he had needed to do was tell her, but he hadn't.

There was a moment of hesitation before Rhoshad began speaking again, and in it Merlin could feel every ounce of regret, but there was something else there as well, something that felt a lot like belief.

Even though he regretted the outcome, he didn't regret his decision.

…_I couldn't. I couldn't take that risk. By the time I finally figured it out, I was old. My magic had been fading gradually over the years, and my body wasn't that strong anymore. I had thought about telling her before I tried, because I wasn't sure if I'd be able to do it with what little I had left…but it was because of that that I couldn't._

_What do you mean?_

_Think about it. If I had died while trying to lift the enchantment and if Eiwyn had known what was required to properly lift it without knowing that she herself could do it, what do you think she would have done? My spell gave her an extraordinary amount of power, both in here and out there—that's why those who can sense it tend to stay away—and she could have used that power to lure people in who possessed magic. Her desire to save her people, to protect everyone, was what ultimately made my enchantment possible. It was enough to drive the curse deep into the earth and seal Haulden off, and I wasn't about to let that same desire drive her to murder hundreds of people in a search to find someone capable of lifting the enchantment. I couldn't let her destroy herself like that, to taint her heart with such desperation and insanity. You may call me selfish if you want, but I don't regret it._

…_No. I don't think I would either._

Eiwyn didn't know. She didn't know that she could end the enchantment, that there was a way to set everything right. So much had been kept from her in order to protect her, and it had been done out of love. Had he not done the same, sometimes for even far less noble reasons? He had no right to fault Rhoshad for his actions, because they weren't any different than his own, and to do so would make him nothing more than a hypocrite. There was enough hypocrisy in his life already, and he had no desire to create any more.

He knew what it was like to regret the outcome of a choice without regretting the choice itself. No matter the heartache, he would always choose to protect the people he loved, to protect Arthur, even if it meant leaving a trail of destruction in his wake—broken promises, shattered trust, friendships, betrayal, lies… He could withstand it all as long as Arthur lived to become the king he was meant to be, as long as his friends remained safe and protected.

He would do anything and everything in his power to keep them all safe.

_Merlin?_

No matter what the cost, he would save them. He would save as many people as he could, because what purpose was there in having power if he couldn't use it for the right reasons? His friends needed him. Rhoshad, Eiwyn, and the people of Haulden all needed him, and he wasn't about to let any of them down. The enchantment would be lifted, and all of them would be set free.

_I've got the staff. I'm heading back to the tower. I'll be there soon._

* * *

><p>He had once heard a long time ago that waiting was an act of trust. He doesn't remember where or when he had been told that or even by whom, but he does remember the fact that he hadn't really believed it or spared much thought for the meaning behind that statement. He could also recall being told that waiting is a battle in itself, that the people left behind sometimes suffer more or fight harder than the ones they're waiting for. Needless to say he hadn't really believed that one either.<p>

However, as he stood there with his fellow knights and watched them as they paced back and forth with their eyes continuously wandering towards the door, Elyan was forced to admit that perhaps there was some truth to those statements after all.

After speaking to Rhoshad, all four of them had resolved themselves to waiting once again. As much as they all wished they could head out there and find Merlin, they knew that it wouldn't do any good to try. Eiwyn would find them, and there was no way she'd allow them to get away again. Looking for Merlin would only get them all killed. They were all aware of that, but it still didn't seem to change the fact that they couldn't bring themselves to just sit around and do nothing. Knights weren't meant to stand around and wait while someone important to them was off risking their life. It should have been the other way around.

Still, no matter how badly they wanted to, they couldn't leave, and it wasn't just because Rhoshad wouldn't let them. If they truly believed in Merlin, trusted him, then they had to wait. They needed to stay there and believe that he would come back. It was hard though, because they had no idea what was happening out there and no way of finding out. It left them all feeling anxious and worried, helpless, knowing the danger but being unable to do anything about it. There truly was no condition more painful than that.

Nonetheless they endured it, because as difficult as it was to do nothing, it was equally as important in order to prove that they trusted their friend. Merlin _would_ return. He had promised them that he would, and they wouldn't accept anything less than that.

Between the sound of Arthur pacing, Gwaine rocking his chair back and forth—he was going to tip over if he wasn't careful—and Lancelot tapping his foot, they almost didn't hear the wooden door creak as it began to open. All four of them froze, their attention fixed on the entrance in anticipation as the door that hadn't moved for any of them was pushed open easily.

There honestly weren't words to describe the sheer relief that washed over them all when they saw the very tired but very much alive servant standing in the doorway, a weary smile on his face and a staff clutched in his hands.

He had done it. Against all odds, he had actually _done_ it.

"Merlin!" Gwaine called with a smile as he got up from his chair and made his way over, barely giving Merlin enough time to close the door before pulling him into a hug. The warlock couldn't help but wince a little—he was a bit sore, after all—but he broke into a smile soon after. "Welcome back!"

"Thanks," he said as Gwaine released him, still grinning. By now Arthur, Lancelot, and Elyan had all made their way over as well, crowding around him, looking both relieved and—dare he even think it—proud.

Elyan clapped him on the back with a gleeful and heartfelt, "You did it, Merlin!" The warlock only smiled more, feeling warm with even just that little bit of praise. He wasn't used to it, and it's not like it was necessary, but it certainly felt good to be acknowledged for a change.

Merlin turned to Lancelot for a moment, the knight offering him a nod and a grin, and he knew without needing to be told that his friend was proud of him and was happy to see that he was getting some of the appreciation he deserved. Lancelot had never been very happy about how little thanks the warlock got despite all his efforts and all he did for Camelot even though Merlin always assured him that it was fine, that he didn't mind (he was certain that Lancelot knew he was lying about that even if only a little, but the man never called him on it). The knight seemed more than satisfied with this development, and Merlin couldn't help but admit that he was as well. Perhaps telling them where he was going instead of sneaking off really had been the better choice.

Despite all the praise and the grins he was receiving from his friends, it all seemed to pale in comparison to the look he found on Arthur's face. He was pretty sure that he could count the number of times that he had seen that look on just one hand, and probably only half of those times had it been directed at him. There was relief there as well as joy even though he seemed to be trying to dampen it (that was Arthur, always trying to keep up the pretense of the proud, arrogant prince to some extent regardless of how he was actually feeling). He also looked a bit unsure, as if he didn't quite know what to do now, and Merlin wished that he would just let himself do what he wanted to instead of always worrying about how it would look to others. Why not just hug him like Gwaine had?

That thought was enough to have the warlock grinning from ear to ear despite knowing that it wasn't likely to happen. However, what did happen was just as good and equally as unexpected. Arthur gave him a real smile, unguarded and full of pride as he clapped a hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"Well done, Merlin," he said with complete sincerity, squeezing his shoulder just a bit as a sign of both relief and affection. "I'm glad you're alright."

"Thanks." He wasn't sure what else to say, because nothing seemed adequate enough, but something told him that it wasn't necessary, that what he wanted to convey was already known.

Arthur pulled his hand away but that look remained for a moment more, and Merlin had every intention of burning it into his memory, of holding onto it for as long as he lived as proof that the prince really did care and did appreciate him no matter how ungrateful or angry he sometimes was. It would help to remind him of exactly what it was he always fought for—not Arthur Pendragon, prince and future king of Camelot, but Arthur, his best friend. He could use destiny as a reason and an excuse for his actions, but it was because he genuinely believed in the kind of person that Arthur was that he stayed by his side, and nothing would ever change that.

It would always be the people he loved that spurred his actions.

Being the only one who hadn't approached him yet, Lancelot walked up to the warlock and without hesitation, pulled him into a brief hug much like Gwaine had.

"We knew you could do it, Merlin," he told him, and even though Merlin had his doubts about that, he wasn't about to say anything. There was no need. The fact that they had trusted him enough to let him leave in the first place was more then enough for him.

"So," began Gwaine after Lancelot had pulled away and they had all lapsed into a bout of content silence, "now all we have to do is take that staff to the other tower, right?"

"That's right."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go." The rest of the knights seemed to be of a similar mind as they began to approach the door, ready to finally put an end to their quest, but Merlin was quick to stop them. He couldn't let them go out there, not yet. There was something he needed to do first, something he needed _them_ to do.

"Wait," he called, halting them just as Gwaine was reaching for the door. They all turned to look at him, confused.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, waiting for an explanation, but when one wasn't forthcoming, his brow furrowed in slight concern. "Merlin?"

Ever since he had set out to claim the staff, Merlin had known what he would have to do—what all of them would have to do, but that didn't make it any easier. It's not that he doubted the knights' capabilities or his own in this matter, but there was just so much that could go wrong, and he had no way of knowing if his plan would really work or not. He would be taking a huge chance with this, but he still had to try, because if they simply chose to do nothing, then all of them would die anyway.

The only problem would be getting his friends to do what he asked, to trust him just one more time.

With a deep breath and a lot of courage, he walked up to Arthur and held the staff out to him. Needless to say the prince was startled, his wide eyes flicking uncertainly between his servant and the staff being presented to him.

"Merlin…?"

"Take it." When Arthur only continued to stare at it in apprehension, Merlin held it out a bit more firmly, urging him to take it. "It's alright. It won't hurt you. It no longer matters who holds it."

With apprehension and trust warring in his gaze, the prince hesitantly reached out and took the staff from Merlin. It was obvious that all of them were curious now about why he was handing it over, but he didn't bother giving them a reason. Instead he merely told them what needed to be done.

"Bring it to the tower and end the enchantment. Just make sure you don't let go of the staff. As long as you're holding it, Eiwyn won't be able to find you, but you need to be careful. Those creatures from before are still out there."

The four of them were silent for a moment, just staring at him as if they couldn't quite understand what he had just said. It was Elyan who finally broke it, his words soft and questioning.

"You're not…coming with us?"

Merlin shook his head, and he knew that if he didn't give them some kind of reason that they'd only grow suspicious. It would only be natural. After all, he _was_ hiding something, but he couldn't afford for them to find out what. If they did, he knew what would happen.

"No. There's something I have to do, something that Rhoshad told me about, but I need to talk to him first. It's important."

He was expecting them to disagree, to challenge him or ask what it was he needed to do, because he knew his explanation was shoddy at best. He hadn't really told them anything, but that was only because he knew for a fact that this time they really wouldn't let him go alone if they knew the truth, and he needed to. He wanted the four of them to stay together, because they stood a better chance of making it to the tower that way. It would be impossible for them not to be noticed—Eiwyn had to know that the staff was gone, so there were likely far more of those creatures wandering around, which meant that sending out just one of them wouldn't do any good. Even if they couldn't kill those beasts, they could still delay them a bit and defend themselves. It was their best chance.

He needed them to go and lift the enchantment, and he needed to make sure that they succeeded.

Strangely enough, none of them said anything at first. Unlike when he had come to them before about going to get the staff, they were all remaining quiet. There was no protective anger, no shouting, no questions of any kind whatsoever, and when something finally was said, it was only one word and not the one he had been expecting.

"…Alright."

Merlin looked to Arthur, hardly believing what he had just heard. He was waiting for someone to say something else, to contradict the prince, but no one disagreed. Not even Gwaine was arguing, and the warlock couldn't help but smile a bit at the four knights in front of him. Even though they didn't know what it was he needed to do, what it was they were entrusting to him, they still chose to trust him, to have _faith_ in him.

He was tempted to thank them, but he knew that that would only raise questions. Besides, there was no reason to. He was pretty sure his gratitude was obvious anyway.

"We'll come back," Lancelot assured him.

"I know. Just be careful."

With one final nod in acknowledgement, they pulled open the door, each one of them placing a hand on the staff before stepping into the vale. It wouldn't keep them safe for long, but any protection was better than nothing, and they needed whatever advantage they could get.

When the door closed behind them, Merlin didn't move. There was no point. He knew what was coming. After all, even though he hadn't acknowledged him yet, he was completely aware that Rhoshad was watching him. He had been ever since Merlin had entered the room, and the warlock knew why. It had been made perfectly clear over the last few days that he couldn't hide anything from him.

"…You lied to them."

He turned around to face the sorcerer, but he didn't need to see his face to know that he was disappointed as well as a bit worried. In all honesty, he had every right to be.

"I know," Merlin began, "but I had to. There's something I have to do."

"I know that…but you should at least heal yourself."

"…I really _can't_ hide anything from you, can I." The warlock flashed him a sad smile before glancing down to his right side. It was impossible to see it now thanks to a few spells, but he knew that Rhoshad had no need to see it to know what was there.

He had been careless. Just before he had reached the staff, one of the creatures had found him. He hadn't been fast enough, and its claws had ripped into his side just above his hip at the same moment that he had touched the staff. There had been a blinding light, and when it had cleared, he had been lying alone on the platform with Rhoshad's staff held tightly to his chest and blood running down his side.

He was ashamed to admit that he had panicked a bit at the sight of it, but in the end he had managed to use his magic to slow the bleeding (which was a much more effective method than his hands or a makeshift bandage). He had also used a few spells to clean himself up and make it look like his tunic wasn't ripped and soaked in blood before he had made his way back to the tower (they were simple enough spells, ones that could easily come undone if someone were to notice, but they had worked well enough). Even now his side still ached, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. Nothing he had tried had worked.

He had never been very good at healing injuries, after all. Aside from when he had healed Morgana, he couldn't think of a single time where he had successfully been able to heal a wound.

"Merlin, you need to heal it."

"I already tried," he said with a shrug. "Afraid I'm not very good at it. I was able to slow the bleeding, but I can't close it." He looked up at Rhoshad, at the concern that was crystal clear on his face, and offered a reassuring grin. "I'll be alright."

The ghost didn't look convinced, but in the end he merely shook his head with a soft sigh and a wistful grin of his own.

"You truly are stubborn, aren't you…"

Rhoshad knew that there was no way he'd be able to convince Merlin to rest or to take the time to treat his wound properly, and with how little magic the spirit had at his disposal, there was no way he'd be able to heal it himself. He had never been very good at it to begin with. Besides, the warlock wasn't the type of person who would sit around when there was something he needed to do to save his friends. Even if he wanted to, there was no way Rhoshad would be able to keep him locked in the tower. The boy had a strong will. In some ways it was even more impressive than the overwhelming well of magic he had at his disposal, a power that flowed as naturally through him as blood and was as essential to his life as breathing. Even without that strength though, he was truly a strong person.

The warlock was about to start speaking, a question on the tip of his tongue, but Rhoshad quickly cut him off, knowing that they didn't have much time to do this. He already knew what he was going to say anyway.

"I know what you want to ask me," he began, "and I'm afraid there isn't an easy answer. There's no spell, no ritual—nothing with any sort of guarantee that what you're thinking will actually work, but…the magic here is about will and intent. My enchantment was possible because of a strong desire to protect. You have to approach it with an equally strong desire. Your magic is instinctual, so you should have no problem getting it to react to your will. I have every faith in you."

"Alright."

Rhoshad watched as the warlock turned around and made his way to the door, but before Merlin could grab the handle, he called out one last time. When he knew he had the boy's attention, he said the only thing he could think of, something that he didn't need to say at all but that he wanted to nonetheless. Words weren't always necessary, but sometimes it was better just to say them anyway.

In case this was the last time they ever saw each other face to face, he didn't want to have any regrets.

"Thank you, Merlin. For everything you've done and for what you intend to do…thank you."

Merlin glanced back at him as he grabbed the handle on the door, his expression set in determination and resolution. There was no hesitation, no fear—his mind had been made up long ago, and despite being injured, exhausted, and weary in so many ways, in that moment he looked every inch the powerful, benevolent warlock he would one day become. He was destined to be the most powerful practitioner of magic that the world had ever known—of that there was no doubt—but something told him that it wouldn't just be his magic that he was admired for.

"I promise that I will do everything in my power to save Haulden. I will end this, no matter what."

As he opened the door and left the sanctuary for the last time, Rhoshad couldn't help but smile at the thought that had crossed his mind in that moment.

The world would remember Merlin for his magic, but it was his loyalty and compassion, his _heart_, that would make him truly worth revering.

* * *

><p>"So…what now, princess?"<p>

"Will you just shut up for _one_ second and let me think?" Arthur hissed at the knight, trying his best to keep his voice down so that he wouldn't be overheard by the pack—yes, pack, as in more than one—of beasts roaming the corridor.

Needless to say things weren't going that well, not that he had really been expecting anything different. As if it wasn't hard enough to maneuver through the hallways as a group of four knights who couldn't move too far away from each other less one of them lose their grip on the staff; now they had those creatures to deal with as well.

"Does anyone have a plan?" Elyan whispered.

"We could try going another way," Lancelot suggested.

"Is there another way?"

"…I don't know."

Arthur was tempted to let his head fall back against the wall, but with his luck _that_ would be the sound that would give them all away, and he really wasn't in the mood for that type of sick irony. He was starting to understand why Merlin had wanted to go alone earlier. It would be far easier to walk the corridors and evade the monsters as a single person instead of a group of five. He had made the right choice in asking them to stay behind, but he also got the feeling that there hadn't been quite this many creatures around when he had been trying to reach the staff. Their numbers were likely a result of it being taken. After all, there was no way that Eiwyn wouldn't have noticed.

"We can't just sit here like this," Gwaine said. "Merlin's counting on us to reach the tower. He risked his life to get this thing. I don't know about you, but I don't plan on doing anything less."

"We can't just run out there," Elyan told him. "We won't be able to fight them like this, with only one hand…or at all, really."

"If they see us, it won't matter if we're holding the staff or not, and even if we can't kill them, we could probably fend them off long enough to reach the tower."

"You don't know that. If we're not careful, we'll all end up getting killed."

"Well, it's a better plan than staying here."

Between all the quiet bickering and the growling noises coming from the beasts just beyond their hiding place, Arthur was having a hard time concentrating on a plan. It was true that they couldn't keep hiding, that sooner or later they were going to have to take a chance, but they had to time it. They couldn't just run out there and hope for the best. There was far too much riding on this. They couldn't afford to be that reckless.

"Will you all just be quiet for a moment?" he hissed. "I'm trying to think."

"Just don't hurt yourself, princess."

"_Gwaine_…"

"…Do any of you hear that?"

Arthur turned to look at Lancelot along with Elyan and Gwaine, all of them falling quiet for a moment as they listened, but he couldn't hear anything other than what he had already been hearing.

"Hear what?" he asked.

"That."

He was about to ask the knight to be a bit more specific when the sound of something scraping against stone echoed through the room they had ducked into. It was followed by a low growl, predatory and dangerous, and all four of them froze in place before slowly glancing behind them.

Apparently there had been another entrance to the room, and in the doorway stood one of the beasts, its teeth and claws bared as it crouched into an attacking position.

They had been discovered.

As the four of them quickly got to their feet, Arthur found himself being put in charge of the staff while his three knights all released their hold on it to draw their swords (the protection it offered no longer mattered. The creatures would be able to find them now anyway). When the beast suddenly came bounding towards them, they really had no other choice but to make a run for it. It seemed that Gwaine would get his way after all, whether he had truly wanted to or not.

However, no matter what happened, they weren't about to lose. They had someone waiting for them, and they couldn't let him down. Despite the risk he had taken, Merlin had returned to _them_ safe and sound, and they owed it to him to do the same.

After everything the five of them had gone through together on this ridiculous, impossible journey, how could they possibly do anything less?

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well, I hope you enjoyed it :) We're going into the final stretch where the last few questions shall finally be answered. I can't wait! Hopefully I'll find the time to work on the chapter while I'm at the hotel this week.

Thank you to everyone who is reading this fic, and thanks to all who have favorited, alerted, and reviewed :) I'm very grateful. I know I've said it before, but it always makes my day to see all those email alerts and to hear what everyone thinks, so thank you!

Until next week!


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: **Tired, don't feel good... I went to an anime convention on thursday, came back Sunday, caught a cold, and now I feel terrible, so I'm gonna keep this short.

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language. Better safe than sorry, ne?  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin :)

I meant to do responses for the reviews, but I didn't have time. I'll try to do them for this week :)

This chapter isn't proof read...at all. I more or less wrote it today, and I was going to proofread it until I started coughing. It's hard to read when my eyes are watering and my throat tickles (stupid medicine...it's supposed to help, not make it worse). So I'm going to bed. I'll read through it tomorrow.

Onward!

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 27<p>

In some ways he couldn't help but wonder if a part of him had always known that it would all come to an end here. It was the only thing left untouched, the last piece of a puzzle that he had finally been able to solve. Now he just needed to finish it.

After leaving the tower and Rhoshad behind, he had made his way through the castle, remaining cautious and alert as he snuck down corridors and peeked around corners. However, with every hall he had walked, he had grown less and less careful, and towards the end of his trip he had stopped bothering to hide altogether. There had been no point. For some reason, all the beasts had vanished. There had been no soft growling, no scraping of claws against the stone, and there should have been, because it didn't make sense for them not to have been there. After all, he had stopped hiding his presence a long time ago.

The spell had been in place at first, but after four corridors and no sign at all of the creatures, he had started to worry. If they weren't there, that meant that they had found something better to do, something more useful, and the only thing he could think of was stopping the knights from reaching the tower. They wouldn't stand a chance against that many of them, and so the warlock had cast away his concealing spell in the hopes that he'd be able to draw at least some of the attention to himself, but for some reason it hadn't worked. The spell had ended—the fact that the voices had returned not a moment after was proof enough of that—and yet he had been left alone. Nothing had come for him. Even now he was being ignored.

The warlock took a deep breath as he gazed at the wooden doors in front of him, whole and unyielding amidst the wreckage of the castle. This was the third time that he had come to stand before them, and now that he wasn't so distracted, he could feel the way his magic reached towards it, reacting to whatever was on the other side. Even without a physical connection, it seemed to be pushing against the doors, trying to force them open so that he could move forward. There was no spell keeping them closed, no magic lock or anything that had been placed on them. They remained closed because of Eiwyn, because of her will and the borrowed magic she possessed that could react to that will. When he had touched those doors the last time, he had felt the magic there, and he knew that Eiwyn had been able to feel his own, had sensed that if he so desired, he could break through the magic there and walk right in.

…So then why wasn't she stopping him? She had to know that he was standing right outside those doors, and yet she hadn't tried to prevent him from getting there. She had _allowed_ him to. For whatever reason, she had let him come this far, and so he wasn't about to waste the chance he had been given. Before she could change her mind, he needed to get through those doors, because he somehow knew what was beyond them. He wasn't sure why, but he just did. It was the only place in the castle that she was truly protecting, and so it was the only place that made sense.

Knowing he didn't have any more time left to hesitate—not when his friends' lives were at stake—Merlin walked up to the wooden doors and placed his hands against them. He forced his magic through them, tearing through their protection quickly but gently; he wasn't here to start a fight or to threaten. He didn't want to appear as an invader or a trespasser, because that wasn't his intent. He only wanted to help, to finally put an end to the suffering and to save the people he cared about. Rhoshad had told him that the magic of the vale reacted to will and intent, and so he made sure his actions and his magic reflected that.

If he was going to have any hope of ending this, he needed to do things right, because he wouldn't be getting a second chance. It was all or nothing.

With both hands, the warlock very slowly pushed the doors open, the magic around them giving under the pressure of his own, and when he had them fully opened, he stepped in only to freeze in awe at what he saw.

He was in another courtyard, surrounded by the walls of the castle with a gray, misty sky swirling above him. The ground was covered in dirt and broken cobles with grass growing up beneath the cracks, and he imagined that it had likely been beautiful at one point before there was no one left to care for it, to keep it looking nice. There had likely been quite a few plants around it if the small areas of dirt and grass were anything to go by. However, what truly drew his attention was what lay at the very center of the courtyard, completely untouched by the same devastation, the same despair that had caused the rest of the vale to fall to ruins.

Before him was a massive tree with a thick trunk and long, spindly branches that hung much like a willow's and brushed against the earth. The bark was a rich golden color that seemed to gleam even without the light of the sun, and the leaves were such a light shade of green that they looked almost like silver, each one glinting as the branches swayed in the slight breeze that blew through the courtyard.

It was a truly magnificent sight, and he was certain that in the sunlight it would be even more astounding and ethereal. He wondered if it was the magical properties of it that made it look like it was shining or if the tree simply was that beautiful all on its own.

Slowly he took a few steps forward, not bothering to close the doors behind him, before he came to a stop once more, though this time for a different reason entirely. Standing there in front of the tree, her image as haunting and otherworldly as ever, was Eiwyn. She was facing away from him, but he knew that she didn't need to see him to know he was there. She had allowed him to be, after all.

"I knew you would come here," she said softly but without turning around. Her words were simple, emotionless, but he couldn't help but think that she looked tired. He honestly couldn't blame her for that. She had probably been weary for a long time now.

"Eiwyn," he began just as softly, his words a gentle plea, "please, stop this."

"I can't."

"You can."

"No." She lowered her head, her shoulders slumping forward in a way that often signified defeat, but Merlin knew that it was anything but. This was a young girl who carried the weight of an entire kingdom on her shoulders, who had been bearing that weight all alone for hundreds of years. She was tired and lonely, and yet she continued to hold tight to her resolve and her reasons. No matter how trying it became, she never stopped.

In some ways she wasn't any different from him or even Arthur. He knew what it was like to carry the weight of a kingdom—perhaps even the world—and it was heavy indeed.

"I can't let it end," she said, her voice taking on a hint of desperation and longing. "If I do, then all of it will have been for nothing. My people, my kingdom, Rhoshad… I won't allow it to happen again."

"Then why didn't you stop me? You said you knew I was coming, so why did you let me?"

"You don't have the staff. You're not my concern right now."

The warlock watched as she straightened herself out once more and stood a bit taller, her image radiating power and regality despite her size and otherwise innocent appearance. She alone held absolute authority within the vale, but it wasn't her omniscience that made her appear so strong. It was something far more important than that.

People tended to be at their strongest when protecting something or someone precious to them. Physical prowess, skill, intelligence—they all paled in comparison to sheer determination and loyalty, a need to protect and to save. That's what truly mattered, after all.

The warlock knew what needed to be done and exactly how he could do it. He just needed to make her understand. The lives of his friends were riding on this.

"…I don't think that's it," he told her, watching as she tensed up a bit at his words but still refused to look back at him. He smiled a bit, knowing that he had her attention and that even though she could easily look into him and figure out what it was he planned on doing, she was letting him speak and waiting to hear what he had to say. "Eiwyn, I understand. I know why you're doing this. I also know that you don't want to. It took me a while, but I think I get it now."

It had taken him a long time to get there, but he finally had all the answers.

"The other day, I saw you in the courtyard, reaching for the staff. You wanted to take it, and you did it for the same reason that you chose not to stop me. You _want_ the enchantment to end."

She finally whirled around to face him, her eyes wide and more than a little surprised. He imagined it wasn't a look she often wore, if at all. Just like when he had seen her in the courtyard, he was struck by just how uncertain and vulnerable she could look, how human she still was even after so many years in isolation and with so much power flowing through her. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that everything he had said had hit home, that he was one hundred percent right in this. She wanted everything to end.

"So let it," he told her. It was as simple as that.

"…I can't," she insisted, lowering her gaze once more as despair and desperation began to seep into her words. "What I want doesn't matter. Haulden can never be free!"

Pain, sorrow, loss…he could feel all of it in the air and in the earth, twisting around them all. So many voices crying out for retribution and freedom yet all the while knowing that it could never be. He had allowed himself to get caught up in it before, but things were different now, because he understood. He had spent so long trying to figure out _why_ everything had happened, _why_ it had all come to this, and just like Rhoshad had told him, he had already been given all the answers. It was all right there, laid out in their history, and it was time to put an end to it, to all of it.

With a soft smile, he said the one thing that truly needed to be said—just two words that would bring about the end to their story.

"…You're wrong."

Her head snapped up, her eyes meeting his, and for once in his life, he knew exactly what he needed to do.

"Eiwyn…the curse won't come back."

Those golden eyes of hers grew wide as her breath caught, and in them he could see everything that she had probably long since stopped feeling. There was shock and disbelief, fear, anxiety, and buried under all of that was just the slightest hint of hope, of belief in the possibility. He could tell that she was trying to read him, to look into him and find out if what he had said was true, but she didn't seem to be capable of reaching that far when her own mind was in such disarray.

"What…?" was the only word she managed to choke out as she continued to stare at him with wide eyes, waiting for some kind of answer, some kind of revelation that she had stopped expecting to hear long ago.

After hundreds of years, there was no way he could deny her an answer.

"It took me a while, but I was finally able to figure out what he kept telling me," Merlin began with a fond smile on his face. "Rhoshad…he had everything figured out. He knew that the curse couldn't be destroyed or countered, so he sealed Haulden and forced the curse into the earth, and after the kingdom was safe, he planted that tree in order to purify the land—it just needs a little help from a sorcerer is all."

He looked to the tree in all its majestic glory before meeting Eiwyn's gaze once more, hoping that she could read his expression just as easily as she could his heart, because every word was nothing more or less than the truth.

"The curse _can_ be stopped."

And with just that one statement, he watched her completely come apart until she was no longer the omnipotent guardian of a fallen kingdom but a young girl who had had too much responsibility placed upon her shoulders. He could practically see her every thought in the way she reacted, her mind going back through the years and coming to all of the same realizations that he had, although they were far more painful for her. She had one hand placed over her mouth, her other clutching at the material of her robe as her arm wrapped across her stomach. She was hunched over as if someone had knocked the air out of her, and for all he knew, his words were as powerful as any physical blow could ever hope to be.

He had more or less told her that everything she had suffered through could have been avoided, that it hadn't been necessary, that it could have ended. He couldn't even begin to imagine the overwhelming pain that knowledge would bring despite the hope that accompanied it.

After all, she had taken the life of someone she loved, her only companion in the world, all because of a misunderstanding.

"I…Rhoshad, he…" she sobbed out, her voice catching on the words as tears streamed down her face. His heart clenched at the sight.

"Eiwyn…"

"He knew… He _knew_, and he tried to lift the enchantment, but I…_I_…"

Before she could torture herself any further with the knowledge of what she had done, he jumped in to reassure her, to let her know that it wasn't her fault, because Rhoshad didn't blame her for it. She hadn't known, and he had never told her. He had tried to do what was right, both for her and for Haulden, but things don't always go the way you expect them to. Eiwyn had believed that he was betraying her, that he had decided to end the enchantment and damn the consequences, to set them free even if it meant that the curse would return and spread until it killed everything in its path. She had been trying to protect not only her own people but everyone else as well.

Neither of them were to blame. They had both only done what they thought was right. Their actions were regrettable, but their reasons were noble. There was no way he could fault them for their mistakes. Despite all of Eiwyn's power and Rhoshad's knowledge, they were still only human.

"It was a misunderstanding," he told her, needing her to believe him so that he could lessen some of that self-deprecating anguish. "You are not to blame."

"…Why didn't he tell me?"

That question was easy, and he imagined that some part of her already knew the answer.

"He was trying to protect you." He didn't need to elaborate, to explain, because he knew that she could find all that she needed to through him. Even if he didn't say the words, she would still understand.

"Rhoshad…"

As much as he wanted to, he knew that he couldn't give her the time she needed to properly grieve. The vale wasn't free yet, and his friends were still out there being pursued by the creatures under Eiwyn's control (assuming they hadn't stopped the moment her emotional state had become unstable). He needed her to put an end to it before something happened.

"Eiwyn," he began, drawing her attention and making sure she understood what he was asking of her before saying, "please stop."

After just a moment of hesitation, she nodded and seemingly put a stop her beasts. It was hard to tell if she had truly done anything at all—there was no verbal command or spell to call them off, but he was able to feel just the slightest change in the air around them, and so he decided to simply trust that she had done what he had asked. There was no longer a reason for her not to.

"Thank you."

He glanced over at the tree once more and started to slowly move forward. He was still a little apprehensive about getting too close to Eiwyn—their last two encounters hadn't exactly been pleasant to say the least—but he kept walking regardless, moving past her and towards the tree. He knew that her eyes were following him, curious and hopeful, waiting to see what he planned to do. In all honesty, _he_ wasn't even sure exactly what he was going to do, but he knew that no matter what, he had to succeed. He would find a way to make it work. Failure wasn't an option.

"I promise that I'll stop the curse," he told her as he reached the tree. "No one else will ever have to suffer like this again."

It was more than just a promise. It was a resolution.

Merlin reached up and placed his hand against the trunk, marveling at how smooth the wood was. His magic was already reaching out, and he knew that part of it was because of the tree's properties, its ability to pull in and store magic, but part of it was also the fact that his magic had always been like an extension of himself, able to react to his will alone. He didn't always need spells and incantations. Sometimes just a simple thought or desire was enough for it to act.

The warlock closed his eyes and concentrated, letting his magic flow through him and into the tree, and from there he let it spread through the earth as well. He had been able to feel it the moment he had arrived in the vale, but he hadn't truly known what it was. The land itself had been crying out, begging for retribution, because buried within it was magic filled with hatred and malice, a desire to cause pain and suffering, to destroy.

The curse was still there, weakened but still very much alive and more than capable of returning if the enchantment protecting the vale were to end. The seal Rhoshad had created was the only thing keeping it there, and Eiwyn had been willing to spend an eternity in unending solitude and suffering in order to make sure it was never set free.

_No more._

He would save her. He would save _all_ of them. That's what his magic was _for_, and if he couldn't use it for that, then what good was it? Even if it took every ounce of strength he had, he _would_ end the curse.

_Please,_ he begged as he let go and allowed his magic to be pulled in, to strengthen the purifying qualities of the ancient tree. He willed it to draw the curse from the land that plagued it like a poison and to then cleanse it, to draw out every bit of darkness and leave only the pure, untainted magic behind. _Please, just…_

He pressed his hand firmly against the wood until his arm began to shake under the strain. He wanted this to work—he needed it to, no matter the consequences. Rhoshad had told him that his will would be enough to make it work, that if he wanted it strongly enough, his magic would answer his call. He thought about all the reasons he was doing this, all the people who were relying on him, everything that had happened after he had arrived in the vale, and all the injustice that had been suffered for such a petty, selfish reason.

_Please…_

He leaned forward until he could rest his head against the trunk, and with everything he had, he willed it all to end.

_Let this be enough._

* * *

><p>"Damn it, they just keep coming!"<p>

Gwaine swung his sword in a wide arc, cutting through two of the mist creatures, but just like the other fifty or so times he had tried, their bodies simply reformed a moment later. All it did was delay them and not by much. At the rate they were going, they would never be able to reach the tower. What made it even worse was that they weren't even all that far away! They had managed to cover a good distance while running away from their pursuers before the beasts had managed to surround them in one of the corridors, forcing the four of them to fight back to back. For the most part, all they could do was defend, and in that time they had only managed to make it a handful of steps further down the hall.

Honestly, their only saving grace was the fact that the monsters couldn't all attack them at once due to their formation...oh, and that Arthur was wielding the staff instead of his sword. Upon realizing that it could cut through the creatures just as easily as his sword and that they actually _didn't come back_ afterwards, he had given up on using his blade entirely in favor of the weapon that was actually working.

Gwaine wondered if the prince realized that he was fighting using a weapon of _magic_, but he certainly wasn't about to bring it up. It was better to just let him swing it around and focus on staying alive. Best not to ruin a good thing. He'd ask him about it later, when their lives weren't in danger.

"I don't know how much longer we can keep this up!" Elyan shouted over the sounds of battle as claws and steel met again and again. They had been going at it for a while now, and all of them were starting to feel the effects of it. They were all breathing hard, their movements no longer fluid and effortless but forced and weary. The beasts were wearing them down, slowly but surely, and it would only be a matter of time before one of them slipped up. One moment of hesitation, a strike too slow or too fast, and it would all be over. The creatures would be upon them in seconds.

However, he sure as hell wasn't going to make it easy for them. Far too much was riding on their success for him to give up without giving it everything he had, and he knew the rest of them felt the same.

"We have to keep going," Lancelot said while cutting down another beast. "No matter what, we have to reach that tower."

Gwaine couldn't help but agree with that. They all had a friend waiting for them to return, after all. Merlin had come back to them safe and sound after risking his life to retrieve the staff. How could they do any differently? No matter what, they would succeed. They owed it to him to do everything in their power to make it to that tower. Failure just wasn't an option.

Knowing that they needed to create an opening so that they could make a break for it, the four of them began planning the best way to go about cutting a path through the creatures. Personally Gwaine liked the idea of just charging straight forward, but the rest of them weren't too keen on that particular method (no sense of adventure, those three), something about it being too reckless. However, it quickly became obvious that any choice they made would be dangerous. They were far too outnumbered for it not to be.

Just as they were about ready to brace themselves for what could very well be the last decision they ever made, something strange happened.

All the creatures—all thirty-something of them—disappeared. They all just vanished into thin air, dissipating into the mist around them. There was no warning or anything; they were just suddenly _gone_, leaving four very confused knights in their wake as the corridor suddenly fell silent.

For a long while, no one moved. They all just stood there, waiting for something to happen, believing that it was some kind of trick, but as the moments continued to tick by and the creatures didn't reappear, they began to relax. The tension slowly drained away, and soon all that was left was a slight wariness and more than a little confusion.

"…What just happened?" asked Arthur, looking around the corridor as if expecting something to suddenly jump out at them.

"They're gone," Elyan said with a hint of awe. "All of them are just gone."

"But why did they vanish? They had the upper hand."

"Don't know," said Gwaine as he lowered his sword, a grin spreading across his face as he realized that for whatever reason, the creatures had stopped their attack, and that meant that Eiwyn had willingly called it off. She was allowing them to continue. "But I'm not about to question it. We should just be glad they're gone."

He could tell that Arthur and Elyan didn't fully agree with his statement even though neither of them were pressing the matter, but it surprised him a bit to see that Lancelot seemed to be in agreement with him. The other knight was nowhere near as carefree as he was, and yet he seemed perfectly fine with not questioning their sudden stroke of luck. He didn't seem concerned in the slightest, and not for the first time Gwaine got the feeling that he knew something that they didn't, that there was some reason he didn't feel the need to worry or wonder about what had happened.

Someday he would have to corner the knight and get him to explain himself. There had to be a reason behind all of it, because no one should look that calm in the midst of what they were experiencing.

The moment of uncertainty amongst their group came to a quick halt when Arthur decided that they had done enough standing around and took a few steps forward. The staff was still gripped tightly in his hands, a physical reminder of what they still needed to do. They weren't through this yet.

"Come on," he said. "We need to keep moving."

None of them needed to be told twice, and before long they were all sprinting down the corridor on their way to the tower. They really hadn't been too far off—all it took was three more corners before they reached the stairwell, and from there it was a steady climb up to the top. They did their best to push past the exhaustion even though their pace slowed dramatically. They weren't about to stop though, because they couldn't risk the chance that Eiwyn would change her mind and send her beasts after them again. Even if it was a slow climb, they would keep going.

After countless stairs, a lot of sore muscles, a few muttered curses and complaints, and even one precarious moment where they had almost ended up making their way back _down _the stairs in a very painful manner, the four of them finally reached the top room of the tower. The stairwell ended, leaving them in a huge, open room. It was completely empty, not a single piece of rubble to be found. Unlike the rooms in Rhoshad's tower which had merely been preserved by him, this room had simply remained untouched for all those years. There had never been anything in it that could crumble or decay, and it was likely that no one besides Eiwyn had set foot in it for hundreds of years.

It suddenly dawned on them all that they were about to accomplish what no one else ever had, and yet not one of them could muster up any pride or smugness about it whatsoever. This wasn't some test of courage and the staff wasn't a trophy. There was nothing to be won from what they were doing. Too much had been sacrificed, too many lives lost. Pride seemed like such a petty notion in the wake of all that. They were just setting things right even if part of their motivation was a bit selfish. They all wanted to go home, after all.

As the four of them stepped further into the room, their attention was quickly drawn to the center of it where a circular platform resided. It was about half a foot off the ground, and all around it the stone was etched in patterns and symbols—runes, Rhoshad had called them. The platform and the area around it were covered in magical runes, a spell that had been carved into the very stone of the tower.

"That must be it," said Lancelot as they began to approach the platform. Just like Rhoshad had said, there was a small depression in the middle, a hole just big enough for someone to shove the end of the staff in. It seemed so easy compared to everything else they had gone through—just put it in and let the magic take care of the rest—but that was fine. Getting to this point had been enough of a challenge. They were all ready for it to just end.

When they reached their destination, Arthur took the last few steps alone, stepping up onto the platform and across the runes until the depression was right in front of him. He looked at the staff in his hands and then at the symbols and lines all around him. It was a form of magic, as was the staff that he carried, that he had wielded like a weapon against those creatures. He had been trying to ignore that fact, but it didn't make it any less true that he was about to partake in a magic ritual of sorts. He was about to knowingly trigger a spell, to allow magic to save them.

Strangely enough, it didn't bother him. It just didn't. He couldn't seem to drum up any wariness at all. Without even realizing it, he had decided to place his trust in a sorcerer, to believe that Rhoshad had told them the truth. He knew that they were doing the right thing, that they _would_ succeed in ending the enchantment. The ghost had done so much for them, had saved them simply because he could. None of his actions were evil or malicious. Everything he had done, he had done for the sake of others.

Despite his magic, he was a noble man, and his word was worth trusting.

Arthur took a deep breath, and without hesitation, he forced the staff down into the platform. The moment it hit the bottom, there was a soft click, and something in the air immediately changed.

The prince quickly let go of the staff and backed away, watching as the runes began to light up section by section until they were all glowing with a golden light. The crystals on the staff lit up as well, and along with the shifting they could feel in the air, it also began to hum, as if it were vibrating due to the sheer power of the magic being released. It was a strange sensation, but it wasn't frightening. The power flowing through the room was warm, comforting, and he somehow knew instinctively that it wouldn't harm them. It felt _safe_—and wasn't _that_ a strange word to associate with _magic_, but that didn't stop him from thinking it. It just seemed to make sense that Rhoshad's magic would feel safe, because that was simply a part of his nature.

He couldn't help but wonder if this is how Merlin had felt all those times that he had interacted with the sorcerer. It was a nice feeling.

Before his thoughts could go any further, the whole room began to buzz with energy, and the light intensified until it became a blinding force. They all closed their eyes as it continued to expand, enveloping the whole room, and Arthur briefly wondered if it would eventually encompass the entire vale. Could Merlin see it as well even from halfway across the castle? Was he worried?

He knew he wouldn't get an answer, not anytime soon, anyway. For now all he could do was close his eyes and wait for the light to fade.

* * *

><p><em>Strange…<em>

For some reason he couldn't seem to remember exactly how he had gotten here. Last he recalled, he had been standing next to the tree, pouring his magic through it and letting the power wash over him, and then suddenly there had been a bright light all around him. His magic had been tugged rather sharply followed by an almost violent rush of raw energy, and then…nothing. He couldn't remember what came after that, but it must have involved a rather spectacular and most likely very painful throw seeing as how he was no longer next to the tree. He wasn't _too_ far away from it, but he was far enough to realize that whatever had pushed him had probably sent him flying.

He would figure it out later. He had more important things to think about, because something was distinctly different about his surroundings. The air was light and everything was quiet. He could no longer hear anyone crying out, and that heavy, oppressive feeling that he had come to associate with the vale was completely gone. All of it was _gone_.

The warlock slowly turned his head, his attention straying away from the tree and towards Eiwyn. She was still standing exactly where she had been, but her head was tipped back as she stared up at the sky in awe. He wasn't sure what was so fascinating up there, but he was just about to look when his body suddenly decided to remind him of what had happened. He sucked in a sharp breath as his back began to ache as if he had just been thrown into a wall. This time around it had been the ground that he had collided with, which would explain the pain, but he was pretty sure that the bone-weary exhaustion had more to do with that sharp tug against his magic than being thrown to the ground. He felt completely drained of energy in just about every way.

The pain in his back began to dull a bit as he continued to lie there, but it had grown a bit sharper around his right side. He slowly moved his left arm, bringing it across his stomach so that he could figure out what was wrong. His hand came in contact with the torn material of his tunic, and when he moved it a bit further, his fingers immediately encountered something very wet, and he imagined that it was probably very red as well.

He was bleeding again. Apparently the spell he had been using to slow it had faded away along with all the ones he had used to hide the damage. Had that burst of light taken everything from him, or had his collision with the ground been enough to shatter his connection with those spells? Either way, it didn't particularly matter. He was too exhausted to recast them. He couldn't even seem to remember the words (it was quite possible that the blood loss had something to do with that, but regardless, it didn't change the fact that he was exhausted).

Merlin was rather content to just lie there for a while and rest with his head turned to the side and his left hand covering his wound, but the moment he tried to close his eyes, something fell onto his cheek and slid down across his face. It didn't hurt, but it was wet, and soon there was another. More and more began to fall, and each one seemed to drag him further and further away from sleep until his mind became a little bit clearer.

He slowly turned his head to gaze up at the sky, curious as to where all the water was coming from. Far above him was a mass of gray and white clouds.

_Oh…_

It was raining.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Just one more after this (I think... That's the plan, anway). Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think :)

Thanks for reading! Until next week!


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N:** Hello! Sorry about the lateness (hope I didn't worry anyone). I bring you the final chapter of this fic, clocking in at 9,000 words (4,000 more than my average length), but this usually happens. My final chapters are always ridiculously long :) It was extremely difficult to write though even though I knew exactly what I wanted to have happen. I blame the dialogue. I hate trying to wrap everything up.

**Title: **Beyond the Vale  
><strong>Author: <strong>BeyondTheStorm  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T for violence and some bloodshed and maybe some language. Better safe than sorry, ne?  
><strong>Characterspairings: **Only friendship here, though you can read it however you want :) Lots of Merlin and Arthur as well as Gwaine, Lancelot, and Elyan.  
><strong>Spoilers: <strong>Season 3, including the finale. This is a post S3 fic.  
><strong>Warnings: <strong>Nothing, as far as I know.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Merlin :)

I know I didn't get around to doing the replies for the previous chapter, and I apologize, but I do want to say thank you for all the wonderful comments. I've had a lot of fun with this fic, and I'm glad so many people have enjoyed it :)

If you find something horribly wrong, please let me know. I was exhausted when I proof read this.

With no further ado, I give you the last chapter!

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 28<p>

They weren't sure how long it took for the light to finally fade, but it was a good while after before they were able to open their eyes again without fear of being blinded. Everything was rather blurry at first, but when the world finally came back into focus, they found that the room they were in still looked exactly the same as it had to begin with. The platform, the runes, the staff—they were all still there. The only difference was that the magic that had once given them life and light was gone. They were all just ordinary fixtures now.

For a while the four of them remained completely still, looking around the room as if waiting for something more to happen. In the end it was Arthur that broke the tentative silence with the one question they all wanted an answer to.

"…Did it work?"

"I would assume so," said Lancelot even though he didn't sound entirely sure. Everything around them looked the same, after all.

Spotting a small window across the room, the knight quickly made his way over. There was one way to know for sure whether or not they had been successful. He stuck his head out the opening and was immediately met by a soft breeze and the feeling of something wet dripping onto the top of his head. Rain, he noted absentmindedly as he looked out across the vale and found that he could see past the walls of the castle, beyond even the plains and the forests to the north.

"What is it?" he heard Arthur call out as the rest of them slowly approached the window.

"It's raining…" he answered, unable to keep the awe and rising joy out of his voice, because despite all the odds being against them time and time again, they had somehow managed to succeed, to do what countless others had failed to accomplish. "The mist is gone."

He turned away from the window and watched as his words began to slowly sink in, leaving the three of them first shocked, then relieved, and in the end that relief became pure, unbridled joy. Gwaine couldn't seem to stop grinning, Arthur released a huff of laughter that was half relieved, half gleeful, and Elyan looked like he wanted to punch the air but settled for clasping Gwaine's arm when the other man reached out.

"Alright! We actually did it!" he cried out triumphantly, all of them basking in their success and the realization that it was finally over, that everything had turned out, and that they would at last be able to go home.

However, it was while they were all congratulating each other that Elyan's attention was drawn towards something that he hadn't noticed before. It was understandable, really, what with their desperate battle with those creatures and their dash towards the tower. None of them had been paying much attention to anything else aside from reaching their destination, but now that the desperation had fled, his focus turned towards his companions and the state they were all in, and he couldn't help but worry a bit at what he saw.

"Gwaine," he began with enough concern to easily draw everyone's attention, "did you take a hit?"

"What?" He seemed genuinely confused about that question, and it was hard to tell if he just hadn't heard it properly or if he thought Elyan was starting to see things.

"You're bleeding," the knight pointed out, motioning towards a streak of red on Gwaine's left side. It stood out against the silver links of his chainmail, and strangely enough, none of them seemed to be broken. When Gwaine looked down at the spot Elyan was indicating, he seemed rather surprised to see the blood there.

"Huh," he muttered as he poked at the area, vaguely aware that he had everyone's attention. He pressed a little harder, but the stain didn't grow nor did he feel any pain. He certainly didn't remember getting hurt—not one of those monsters had been able to land a blow. Also, from what he could tell, the blood was already dry. If he had been wounded, that certainly wouldn't have been the case. "…It's not mine."

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked to which Gwaine only offered the prince a scowl, one that hopefully got across exactly how insulting he considered that question to be.

"…There's blood on you too."

At Elyan's claim, Gwaine and Arthur both turned to see what he was motioning at only to find that Lancelot apparently had a splotch of red on his chainmail as well. Strangely enough, it was in almost the same place as Gwaine's.

"Lancelot?" Arthur questioned while the knight inspected his own "wound" in a similar fashion, poking the area and looking rather confused. Gwaine was fairly certain that he hadn't been injured either, so obviously there wasn't a wound there, but if that was the case then it begged the question of exactly _where_ the blood had come from. If none of them were injured, then how had two of them ended up with dried blood on their chainmail? He knew for a fact that it hadn't been there earlier in the day, which meant that it had to have happened at some point around the time that they left Rhoshad's tower. It was dry, after all, so it had to have been there for at least a little while.

His eyes roamed the room as he thought it over, trying to come up with some sort of explanation, one that would explain why him and Lancelot both had blood on their chainmail and in the exact same place, but he kept coming up blank. Eventually his eyes wandered over to the staff, still standing tall and proud just a few feet away from where they were all gathered. He wasn't sure what it was about it that drew his attention, but it was the one thing that all of them had had in common in the last few hours, the sole attention of their focus, and now that they weren't holding onto it for dear life (or using it as a weapon), he saw something that he hadn't noticed before.

Gwaine was fairly certain that the staff had been untarnished the very first time he had seen it, completely untouched for hundreds of years, but now there were dark smudges along the wood, ones that seemed very obvious now that he was looking. Upon closer inspection, he saw that the smudges were a brownish red and were in a pattern that reminded him a lot of a…

The bottom suddenly seemed to drop out of his stomach when he realized exactly what it was he was looking at.

Fingerprints…blood…the blotchy shape of a hand wrapped around the staff.

There was only one other person who had held that staff before they had, someone that both he and Lancelot had pulled into a hug barely an hour ago.

"It isn't mine," he heard Lancelot say, and before either Arthur or Elyan could comment or contradict him, Gwaine choked out the two words he knew none of them wanted to hear.

"…It's Merlin's."

They all turned to face him, and he could see the flood of shock, concern, and accusation that his words had caused, but all he did was turn their attention towards the staff, to the blood that stood out against the crystals and the sand-colored wood. No further explanation was needed.

"…We need to get back to the tower," Arthur stated in a rush, his expression guarded but his words betraying his concern. All of them were easily in agreement, but before they could rush to the door, Lancelot offered his own suggestion.

"We should split up."

"What for?" Gwaine demanded, wanting nothing more than to just run to the tower where they had left Merlin. There was no telling how badly he had been injured.

"In case he left," the knight stated, and the way he said it made Gwaine think that he wasn't just suggesting a possibility. "He said there was something he needed to do, and you know Merlin. He's good at wandering off."

That last bit had been said directly to Arthur, but all of them knew by now what it implied. In hindsight, they should have figured it out sooner. Merlin wouldn't have given them the staff, wouldn't have sent them all off without him if there wasn't something else he needed to do that was more important…or more dangerous (because that was Merlin in a heartbeat, and he was suddenly reminded of the story about Morgana and the cup of life all over again).

"Alright," Arthur said, looking quite a bit more worried than before. "Split up and look for Merlin, but make your way back to the tower. We'll meet up there."

None of them said anything. They didn't need to, because that was one command that no one had any issue in following. They had to find Merlin as soon as possible.

Failure wasn't an option.

* * *

><p>Ever since they had split up, Arthur had been running. He had taken off just like the rest of them the moment he had left the tower, but for some strange reason, he found himself just mindlessly making his way through the castle instead of actually searching, sprinting down passages and taking turns that he barely realized he was taking. It felt like something was pulling him, dragging him down the corridors and around corners, but he didn't much care seeing as how his mind was only focused on finding his servant before the fool could do something <em>else<em> stupid.

In all honesty, he had no idea where he was going, but something told him not to stop, to just keep running, and it wasn't long before he realized that he was making his way towards the center of the castle. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to go there—he was supposed to be making his way back towards Rhoshad's tower—but his instincts weren't something to be ignored. They had saved him on multiple occasions, so he simply needed to believe that they would lead him to the right place this time as well.

It wasn't until he turned down a long corridor that he realized jus where he was heading. He recognized the area well seeing as how they had passed it multiple times during their earlier explorations of the castle. Twice they had even tried to force their way in, which certainly hadn't turned out well at alll, and yet for some reason he felt compelled to go there one more time, to stop outside those huge double doors that no one had been capable of opening.

…Until now, apparently.

Arthur came to a stop as he reached the large wooden doors that had been sealed shut, incapable of being moved, only to find that they had been pushed open. There was enough space for someone to slip through, which meant that someone had been here before him, someone who wasn't Eiwyn (she had no reason to use the doors when she could just disappear and reappear wherever she wanted). Curious, he stepped forward and pushed the doors further open. He got only a few steps in before he found himself frozen in place, in awe of what he could see.

Before him was a courtyard, and at its center was what could only be described as the most incredible tree he had ever seen, its bark a healthy gold and its leaves a sparkling silver, making the raindrops clinging to them look like crystals. He had never seen anything quite like it.

Pulling his gaze away from the tree for a moment, he took a look around the courtyard. His eyes didn't get very far before they fell on a very familiar figure lying a few yards away from the base of the tree, completely unconcerned about the rain falling around him.

_Merlin._

Part of him desperately wanted to run over there and start yelling at the idiot for leaving the tower, for not telling them where he was going, and another part of him wanted nothing more than to make sure that he was alright. For once it was the latter that won out over his anger, and before he knew it, he was already across the courtyard and falling to his knees next to his servant.

Merlin's eyes were closed, but it didn't look like he was unconscious or even sleeping. His breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling without any difficulty. For all intents and purposes, he seemed to merely be resting, so Arthur just reached out and tapped the side of his face gently.

"Merlin," he called, and sure enough, two blue eyes blinked open.

"Arthur?" There was no disorientation, no confusion. He didn't look hurt or injured or anything, although there _were_ clear signs of exhaustion, but that was only natural. He had been tired long before they had ever entered the vale.

Arthur watched as a grin slowly began to spread across Merlin's face, full of pride and relief as he softly but happily exclaimed, "You did it."

The prince couldn't help but return the smile, finally allowing some of his anxiety to fade away upon seeing Merlin acting much like his usual self. Clearly whatever injury he had suffered wasn't as serious as he had originally feared—there was a good chance he had already gotten it patched up as well, thanks to Rhoshad. The man was a sorcerer after all, albeit a deceased one.

"Yeah, we did."

"Is everyone alright?"

"Of course they are."

"Good."

Merlin seemed to sigh in relief as he closed his eyes again, but for some reason he made absolutely no move to sit up or lift himself off the ground. However, considering all they had been through, he figured he could let the idiot rest for a moment. He could very easily ask his questions while Merlin was lying down. It made little difference.

His eyes flicked back over towards the doorway, his brow furrowing in confusion as he stared at the wooden doors. He just didn't understand how Merlin had managed to get past them so easily. Not only had they been impossible to move, but both times they had tried, Eiwyn had shown up to deter them. She obviously hadn't wanted anyone to reach the inner courtyard…so exactly how had Merlin managed to get through those doors?

"Merlin," he began, unaware that his servant had been watching him during his contemplation and already knew what he was going to ask, "how did you get in here?"

How had Merlin been able to open those doors so easily when no one else could?

"…She let me."

"What?"

Very slowly, Merlin turned his head and looked over towards the tree, just off to the right of it. Arthur followed his line of sight until his eyes came to rest on the only other person in the courtyard.

Eiwyn.

"I had to tell her something," Merlin said, but Arthur barely registered what he was saying. "I needed to get her to stop."

He tensed up at the sight of her, his hand slowly trailing towards the hilt of his sword, because this—_this_ was the woman who had made their lives a living hell while in the vale. She had invaded their minds, had read their hearts without permission, and had tried to kill them more than once. She had even gone so far as to kill her own best friend when all he had been trying to do was save her and their kingdom. With all that in mind, he couldn't help the anger that rose up in him.

"Eiwyn!" he practically growled, making to rise and head over there to confront her, but a hand quickly wrapped around his wrist, stopping him before he could even get to his feet.

"No, Arthur," Merlin said firmly, half demanding and half pleading. "It's alright."

The prince was more than ready to argue the point, but Merlin quickly beat him to it, those blue eyes determined despite their weariness.

"It's alright, she won't harm us. She didn't _know_. It wasn't her fault."

Not for the first time, he got the feeling he was missing something to the story, something important.

"What are you talking about?"

"She was trying to protect everyone. She believed that the curse would come back if the enchantment was lifted?"

"…Curse?"

A sudden feeling of dread began to well up in the pit of his stomach, because despite his original wariness about the deceased sorcerer, he _had_ listened to Rhoshad's story. He knew that the enchantment around the vale had been created in order to stop the curse that had been plaguing the lands of Haulden, a curse that had condemned hundreds to a fate far worse than death.

_But it's gone now, right? The enchantment put an end to it…right?_

"When Rhoshad sealed the vale, the curse was forced down into the earth. His enchantment was the only thing holding it back."

Arthur suddenly felt sick to his stomach, his mind whirling as a lot of things suddenly made sense that hadn't before—all of Rhoshad's cryptic messages and explanations, the reason that Eiwyn had stopped him from lifting the enchantment, and even that whole long spiel about how his staff represented a _choice_.

Either end the enchantment to save themselves but release the curse or condemn themselves to death in order to make sure that it remained sealed for all eternity.

Why hadn't Rhoshad told them? Why hadn't _Merlin_ told them? If he had only known what was at stake…

"So, then…" He swallowed hard. He didn't want to know. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to live with himself if they had somehow condemned the world to a fate worse than death.

"No," Merlin said, making sure he had his prince's complete attention before continuing, his expression nothing short of resolute. "It's gone now. I…Rhoshad explained it to me. That tree is able to purify magic." He gestured to the tree just a few yards away from them, looking at it with a soft, fond expression. "It removed the curse—it just needed some help is all. Eiwyn didn't know, so I had to tell her."

Arthur's attention was once more drawn towards the young woman who had once been their tormentor. She still wasn't paying them any mind, and Arthur was finding it hard to reconcile the image of her now with the one in his memory. Eiwyn had always had an air of grace and power about her, a presence that was ethereal and omnipotent, but the girl standing there, soaked from head to toe, didn't look anything other than human.

"She's free now," he heard Merlin say. "We all are."

The prince took a deep breath and let it out slowly, allowing himself to finally, _finally_ let go of the anxiety that he had been harboring for the past few days. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he could relax, could breathe a sigh of relief and simply hold onto the feeling that everything was finally over. At last they could go _home_.

He took another deep breath before settling more fully on his knees beside his servant. Merlin was still watching him, his expression soft, but there was something else there too, something he couldn't quite place his finger on. However, he didn't have time to ponder it at the moment. There were more important things to take care of right now, namely his servant's injury.

"Alright, Merlin," he began, "where is it?"

Merlin's expression quickly slipped into confusion as he regarded his master.

"Where's what?" he asked.

"Your wound," Arthur told him, watching as his eyes widened. "I know you're injured—there was blood on the staff. Now where is it?"

Merlin looked decided uncomfortable with that question, but Arthur wasn't about to be deterred. If Merlin wasn't going to answer him, then he'd just find it himself. The prince did a quick scan of his servant, but he couldn't find anything obvious. His legs and arms were fine, there was no head wound, his chest seemed alright, he wasn't struggling to breathe…however…

However, he did have his left arm crossed over his stomach rather tightly, his hand hidden in the folds of his jacket. Not once had he moved it. Arthur recognized that position, having spent plenty of time amongst wounded men over the years. They would often guard the injured area much like Merlin seemed to be doing. That had to be where his wound was, and whether the boy wanted to or not, he would make his servant show it to him, treat it if need be, and then drag him back to the tower to rejoin the knights. Then, together, they'd all go home.

If only things could have been that easy.

When Arthur began to reach out, Merlin flinched. There was a flash of fear in his eyes before it faded into something almost sad…resigned. The prince quickly shook away the stab of unease that shot through his chest and leaned over, grabbing Merlin's wrist so he could move his arm out of the way. In doing so, the boy's brown jacket fell open, and before Arthur could even finish moving Merlin's arm, he saw something that he had _never_ wanted to see.

His breath caught, and it felt like someone was squeezing his lungs, his heart. His mind blanked, unable to fully register what he was seeing, not wanting to believe it, because Merlin's hand was covered in blood from where he had been applying pressure to a wound deep in his side, his tunic and the flesh beneath it torn in more places than one. The material around the wound was soaked through, the blood pooling and seeping through his jacket and into the cobbles beneath him.

If not for the rain, Arthur likely would have found him in a pool of his own blood. How long had he been bleeding? How much had he lost? How had he even managed to make it back to the tower with a wound like that let alone all the way through the castle and to the inner courtyard?

Blood continued to flow steadily from Merlin's side, staining everything around it red, and Arthur was struck by the sudden thought that if he didn't do something _right now_, it wasn't going to stop.

He had to make it stop.

Panicking but doing his best not to show it, he quickly placed his hand over the wound and pressed down hard. He began wishing that he had worn his cloak, because then he'd at least have something that he could hold against it or make bandages from. There was only so much he could do with just his hands.

Beneath him Merlin winced, a pained grunt escaping his lips before he fixed his prince with a half-hearted scowl.

"That hurts, you prat," he hissed, his voice laced with pain.

"Shut up, Merlin." Arthur didn't have the time to deal with Merlin and his insolence at the moment. He was too busy trying to come up with a way to fix this.

"That bad, huh?"

He shifted his eyes away from the wound for a moment to meet his servant's gaze, to see how he was doing, but Merlin was wearing a small grin on his face and watching him through half-lidded eyes. There was that look again, the one he hadn't been able to place before, but this time around he saw it for what it was: knowing, acceptance, resignation… Merlin had already come to terms with the fact that there was nothing he could do.

He swallowed hard and looked away, not wanting to acknowledge what he had seen. After all, hadn't it already been proven that he was fairly good at that?

"It's just a scratch," he told Merlin, trying to sound reassuring but knowing he was falling short somewhere around desperate. "You'll be fine."

"Right."

"You _will_," he insisted, because he wasn't going to accept anything less. He just couldn't. "We'll get you back to Gaius. He'll be able to patch you up."

"It's a three day ride, Arthur…"

He clenched his jaw and pressed down a bit harder on the wound, not wanting to hear it and wishing he could somehow erase that stupid, accepting smile on Merlin's face. It was full of sympathy and understanding and so much damn _resignation_ that it was starting to piss him off. He didn't need to be patronized like that, least of all by his idiotic, insolent, _wounded_ servant who hadn't even had the foresight to let them know that he was hurt or to ask Rhoshad to sodding _heal_ him. Why did Merlin _always_ have to be like that?

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked, his voice coming out low, filled with far too many things he couldn't properly put into words. What was even worse was that he already knew the answer. As much as he hated it, he already knew.

"You wouldn't have let me go if I had, and I needed to."

"…You really are an idiot."

Merlin didn't say anything, only huffed a laugh at what was probably a familiar insult by now. However, that short, soft chuckle turned into a slight cough, and Arthur was reminded all over again of the fact that his servant—his stupidly brave and loyal _friend_—was dying. There had to be something he could do, some way to fix this, because that was just how the world worked. No matter where they went or what they faced, the two of them always made it out alive, always walked away together. He couldn't accept anything less than that, because Merlin was supposed to be there. That's how it had to be.

He had long ago lost the ability to picture his life without Merlin.

While Arthur continued to try and think of something that could be done, he took a glance at his servant's face and immediately lost his train of thought as panic began to take over. Those blue eyes which had been wide open and full of awareness only moments ago were starting to close.

"Merlin," he called out, demanding his attention and trying not to sound as desperate as he felt. He pressed down a bit harder against the wound, earning him a pained groan, but it had the desired effect of gaining his attention. "Listen to me, Merlin. You need to keep your eyes open."

The response he got was mumbled, and by the end of it those blue eyes were already slipping closed again.

"_Mer_lin!"

"What?" he grumbled without opening his eyes.

"Stay _awake_."

"I'm tired…"

Arthur pushed down on the wound again, earning him a grimace and a sleepy glare, but he wasn't about to apologize for it. This was for his own good.

"I don't care," he told him, putting as much authority as he could into his voice. "You need to stay awake. Do _not_ close your eyes."

Merlin huffed in obvious irritation, but he seemed to be listening for once. Though his eyes were only half open, he wasn't trying to fall asleep anymore, which allowed Arthur to calm down a bit and think through his options. He needed to come up with something fast. He was running out of time.

For his part, Merlin was doing what he could to try and fight off the wave of pure exhaustion that insisted on trying to pull him under. In some part of his mind, he knew what was happening, knew that it had been inevitable from the start. He had lost far too much blood to remain conscious for much longer. He was tired and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, but the stubborn part of him was trying to fight against it, because he knew that if he closed his eyes this time, he wouldn't be opening them again. If he fell asleep now, he wasn't going to wake up.

Arthur had asked him to stay awake. He needed to keep his eyes open.

…But he was just so tired.

He tried to keep his attention on the prince, tried to focus on his expression, on the anxious but thoughtful look on his face, but everything was getting blurry and darkness was starting to creep in along the sides of his vision. He wanted nothing more than to just fall asleep. He was so tired…

Maybe he could take a short rest. Surely Arthur wouldn't mind. He would only close them for a moment.

Just for a moment…

As the warlock allowed his eyes to slip closed and his body to relax, he was unable to see the frantic thoughts that were running through the prince's head and that were reflected just as clearly on his face. He was trying to formulate a plan, one that involved getting his friend the help he needed. It was true that they were too far away from Camelot, but there was a village only half a day from the vale. If he could staunch the bleeding and somehow carry Merlin all the way there, then maybe the village's herbalist would be able to save him.

It was a long shot, but it was the only plan he had. He didn't have much time. All he could do was pray that Merlin would be able to hold on long enough.

"Merlin," he began, slowly raising his head, "do you think you can—"

His breath caught, and even though he knew it was impossible, it felt like his heart had come to a stop.

_No…_

Merlin's eyes were closed, his face calm and relaxed…peaceful.

_No, please…_

He swallowed hard, but he was unable to push back the fear and overwhelming anxiety at the sight before him. When he found his voice again, it was shaking.

"Merlin?" he called, trying to maintain some semblance of control over himself. He was a prince, after all. He wasn't supposed to feel like he was falling apart at the seams. "Merlin, wake up."

Nothing. There was no indication whatsoever that his servant had even heard him. He reached out with his free hand, the one that he had been using to help maintain his balance, and began to lightly tap the side of Merlin's face, trying to rouse him in any way he could think of.

It had no effect.

"Come on, Merlin," he demanded (not begged) as he tapped a little harder, waiting for a reaction—something, anything—but nothing happened. Merlin only continued to lie there, pale and unresponsive, and all of the fear and desperation were rapidly building up into something akin to anger (because anger was so much easier to deal with, and he was afraid that if he didn't just give into it, he may very well fall apart).

He wanted to hit something—a wall, a training dummy, the ground, anything—but instead he settled for yelling at his unconscious servant, wishing for all the world that he would just _wake up_ even if only to tell him that he was an ungrateful, condescending prat.

"Damn it, Merlin!" he shouted, letting the anger and the despair crash over him. "I told you to keep your eyes open! Why can you never just _listen_? Wake up!"

He slammed his fist into the ground right next to the boy's head, but he didn't even flinch, didn't stir. He just continued to lie there, unmoving and unaware.

It wasn't fair.

This wasn't supposed to happen. It _couldn't_ happen. They were supposed to go home—all of them, together. He had promised that he would look after Merlin, that he would bring him back. He had promised Gwen—had promised _himself_—that they would all come back.

Damn it, he had _promised…_

"Merlin…"

It hurt. He couldn't remember ever hurting this much. He could feel his eyes burning, but he fought against it, refusing to cry. Merlin _wasn't_ gone—he was still breathing, but every breath was shallow, and he knew it was only a matter of time before they stopped altogether, before Merlin…

_What am I supposed to do? Please…I'll do anything._

_Just save him._

"…It's extraordinary, really."

Arthur's head shot up as he jerked his body around as far as he could, startled at the sudden voice when there had been only his and Merlin's for so long. He came face to face with none other than Eiwyn as she came up to him and knelt down next to Merlin. He had completely forgotten that she was still there.

"I've never met anyone quite like him before."

As those golden eyes trailed over the unconscious servant, Arthur felt the irrational urge to hide Merlin from her, to keep him as far away as possible, but he pushed it back and simply watched her. There was something very different in her gaze, something that hadn't been there before. As she looked down at Merlin, her features seemed to soften a bit. There was still curiosity and that strange knowing look she always had, but there was kindness there too, and he began to wonder if maybe there was something _she_ could do to fix this.

"Tell me," she suddenly began, turning her eyes towards him with that same curious stare, "what is he to you?"

Arthur opened his mouth, wanting to ask her what she meant or why she even cared (or how it was any of her business in the first place), but he found himself unable to in the wake of her gaze. It was penetrating, as if she already knew the answer, and he found himself feeling far more vulnerable than he cared to admit. He quickly looked away from her, focusing on one of the many cracked cobblestones before quietly, hesitantly, and perhaps even a little indignantly muttering his reply.

"He's…he's my servant."

His heart clenched, and he immediately found himself regretting his answer, but he couldn't take it back. His pride wouldn't let him.

"…Well," Eiwyn began unconcernedly, her tone becoming almost casual as she continued, "if that's the case, you needn't worry."

_What…?_

"After all, if he's just a servant…then he can easily be replaced."

And just like that, with a few words spoken in an indifferent, uncaring tone, Arthur saw red. Before he could even comprehend what he was doing, he lunged at Eiwyn, his hands wrapping around her neck as he forced her to the ground, one of them still covered in Merlin's blood that was now smeared across her porcelain skin. Chivalry be damned, she had _no_ right! Merlin had sacrificed so much for her and her kingdom, had practically given his _life_ to save them!

She had _no right_!

"How _dare_ you!" he growled, rage and loss and so much pain washing over him as he pressed her harder against the ground, trying to wipe that unaffected, impassive, condescending look off her face. "After _everything_ he did—how dare you imply that his life's _worthless_!"

"…I don't see why you're so upset," she said, sounding genuinely confused and completely unconcerned about the position she was in. "Surely you could get another servant. They're expendable…"

"Just shut up!"

"Why? I'm only telling you the truth—"

"I said _shut up_!"

Silence immediately fell over the courtyard, broken only by the soft patter of the rain. Eiwyn didn't say another word, only stared up at the prince as Arthur tried to calm down, tried to get his breathing under control, but he was just so angry and so _tired_, and it felt like he had been screaming for hours, his throat raw and dry. He just couldn't take it anymore—it felt like his insides were being torn apart, and he was pretty sure it wasn't just rainwater anymore that was running down his face.

When he found his voice again, it was barely above a whisper.

"…Merlin isn't just a servant. He's _my_ servant. He's the most loyal man I know, and the greatest friend I could _ever_ have."

In the end his pride was no match for the raw emotion that Eiwyn's words had spurred.

"He _can't_ just be replaced!"

He glared down at her, just waiting for her to contradict him, to insult the first person who had ever dared to become his friend, but to his surprise, the young woman below him just smiled. That indifferent, callous expression melted away to be replaced by something warm and kind, full of understanding and relief.

"Well," she began, "if that's the case, then there may be hope after all."

"What?" he asked, completely lost by the sudden switch of her character, but her next words sent a flood of something warm through his entire being, something that could only be known as hope.

"I can heal him if you'll let me."

And that—_that_ was enough to make him release her. He drew his hands away from her neck and moved back, allowing her to sit up. She still seemed completely unconcerned by what had just happened despite the blood he had gotten on her neck and the collar of her robes. Instead her attention was fixed solely on Merlin while Arthur's was solely on her, still feeling a bit lost due to her sudden change in demeanor. First she had said that Merlin could be replaced and now she was offering to heal him. In some ways, that last part seemed almost too good to be true, but it didn't stop him from hoping.

"You can heal him?" he asked slowly, needing confirmation, some sort of reassurance that there really was a way to fix this, that he wasn't about to lose his best friend.

"Yes," she said while arranging herself so that the two of them were kneeling side by side. "There should be enough magic left in me for that."

He honestly hadn't meant to tense up at the mentioning of magic—he had known it was coming, because Eiwyn certainly didn't have anything on her for treating a wound and Merlin was well beyond being saved by any simple means—but the discomfort he felt from that word was still too much a part of him for the prince to be able to brush it off completely. His reaction was apparently enough to catch Eiwyn's attention despite how minute it had been. She was glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, and even then it felt like she was reading him as easily as an open book.

"I know how you feel about magic, Prince Arthur," she began not unkindly, "but it's the only way to save him, and I'm more than willing to do this with or without your permission."

He was a bit surprised to hear that given the comments she had made previously…right up until the point where it suddenly dawned on him exactly what she had been doing.

Eiwyn had been _goading_ him. Those callous words and that indifferent expression had been to simply get a reaction out of him. She had done all of it on purpose, had allowed him to attack her without fighting back all because she had wanted him to…what, exactly? What had she even been after? Curious and a little frustrated over the whole thing, he was about to ask when she cut him off, and true to her nature, she already seemed to know what he had been about to say.

"I never had any intention of letting him die," she told him softly. "I just wanted you to be honest. I wanted to see how important he was to you, whether it truly went both ways. I needed to make sure that my decision really was the right one, but I suppose there was never any reason to doubt." She reached out towards Merlin and placed one hand against the wound, the other sweeping gently across his forehead to brush away a few strands of hair. "His life is precious, far more so than my own."

There was something strange in that last comment, something that shouldn't have been there, and Arthur found himself growing increasingly uncomfortable. There was a slight nagging in the back of his mind, something that he was pretty sure he had heard Gaius mention before about how nothing could truly come without a prince, and that sometimes not even magic was above that law.

"What exactly are you saying?" He needed to know what was going to happen. He was tired of always being told only half the story. He needed to understand, because the way she had spoken made it sound as if she couldn't heal Merlin without offering up herself in return.

"It's simple," she told him in that same detached tone, as if everything she was saying had absolutely no bearing on her whatsoever. "In order to heal him, I'll have to die."

"What? But…" Surely that wasn't the case. He knew for a fact that healing didn't require _that_ great a sacrifice. She had to be mistaken.

"Under normal circumstances, that wouldn't be the case—Merlin isn't that far gone yet for a life to be necessary. However, I'm not a real sorceress. The magic I have is borrowed, so my control over it is limited, and now that the enchantment has been broken, it's only a matter of time before it disappears altogether."

Eiwyn took a deep breath and bowed her head over Merlin's body. There were no words muttered, no spell or incantation. All she seemed to be doing was focusing, willing the magic left in her to do as she asked.

"The power I was given has always been connected to my will. It became a part of my very existence. If I offer up all of it, then I should be able to save him."

"But you'll die."

"So be it. I would rather use my life to save his. Unlike me, he still has a future."

"So you'd rather die?" he asked incredulously, slowly becoming frustrated with her. "After everything that happened, you intend to just throw your life away?"

He hated that way of thinking (despite occasionally having those kinds of thoughts himself). He couldn't stand it when people got it into their heads that it was perfectly acceptable to just throw their life away. After being trapped in the vale for hundreds of years, she was finally free, and yet her first act of freedom was going to be to end her life. What was the point? Surely there had to be another way, one that involved all of them living, because they had all sacrificed so much and come so far, and it just couldn't end like this. Merlin wouldn't want that.

He was about to say something more, to try and convince her to think of another way, but he was stopped by the sound of a quiet laugh and a soft smile. He watched Eiwyn as what looked like tendrils of light began to snake down her arms and then into Merlin. Both of them were soon covered in it, glowing softly amidst the rain.

"My life ended a long time ago," she told him without a hint of bitterness or resentment. Every word felt warm…kind. "I'm not throwing it away—I'm giving what I have left to someone who deserves it far more than I. It's alright, really. This is what I want. My family, my people, Rhoshad…they're all gone. Things can never go back to the way they were, but this way, I'll be able to see them again. That's all I want. With them is where I belong just as his place is beside you."

The light grew more intense until it had nearly enveloped them, and for the second time that day, Arthur found himself shielding his eyes, but just before everything disappeared from sight, Eiwyn spoke to him one last time, her voice as gentle as the falling rain.

"Thank you, all of you, for saving us. I had forgotten what it felt like to have hope."

_Look after him._

With that last whisper, the light died out, and Arthur found himself kneeling on the cobbles next to Merlin, all alone. Eiwyn was gone.

The prince sat in stunned silence for a moment, his mind trying to process exactly what had happened. Only moments ago, she had been right there next to him, talking to him, but now there was absolutely no sign of her. It was as if she had simply vanished into the air.

He really didn't want to think about it. He knew that if he did, he would start to feel sick, because even though he didn't know what he had been expecting to happen after lifting the enchantment on the vale, it certainly hadn't been this. It hadn't been the sight of his servant, his friend, all alone and bleeding out from a wound that none of them had noticed. It hadn't been facing the possibility of losing his closest friend…

…It hadn't been the sight of Eiwyn throwing away the life that Merlin had gotten back for her no matter what her reasons for doing so were. He just couldn't agree with an ending like that.

"Arthur!"

The prince snapped his head up, his thoughts quickly dispersing as he saw all three of his knights running towards him. He was fairly certain that he had told them to head back to the tower…

"What are you doing here?" he asked, more confused than accusing (he just didn't have the energy or the mindset to be angry anymore).

"We came to find Merlin," Lancelot explained as he came to a stop behind Gwaine who had already fallen to his knees at their friend's side.

"I told you to meet back at the tower."

"We did," Elyan said. "When we got there, there was a note from Rhoshad. It told us to come here."

Heaving a deep sigh, he found that he really wasn't at all surprised. Rhoshad had probably known all along what Merlin had intended to do.

"Is he alright?" Lancelot asked him worriedly. It was obvious who he meant, and Arthur suddenly realized that he didn't actually know the answer to that question. He quickly reached out, practically shoving Gwaine's hand out of the way so that he could get to the wound. The blood Merlin had lost was still there, staining his tunic and jacket, but when he peeled away the tattered cloth, all he found was a scar. The wound was gone.

Relief crashed over him, and he was pretty sure that if he hadn't already been kneeling, his legs would have buckled under the weight of it. His heart suddenly felt lighter than it had in weeks, and for just those few blessed moments, everything was right in the world. He watched the steady rise and fall of his friend's chest and reveled in each breath, knowing that the worst was finally over.

"He's fine," he told them, grinning all the while. "He's alright."

His lightheartedness lasted right up until the point that Elyan felt the need to ask what all three of them had to be wondering by now.

"Sire, what happened?"

He immediately felt sick again, wishing he didn't have to explain it but knowing he needed to. They had to know all of it, had to understand _why_ everything had happened the way it had. They needed to know about the curse, the tree, Eiwyn, and the role that Merlin had played in saving them all. Nothing could be left out. They had a right to know.

So he told them. He told them all of it, without restraint, leaving nothing out.

By the time he finished, the rain had stopped, and as their silence fell over the vale, the cloud cover above them finally broke, and for the first time in over five hundred years, light began to filter into the kingdom of Haulden.

And when that first tentative ray of sunlight touched upon the courtyard, two blue eyes that hadn't expected to ever again see the light of day blinked open.

The first thing Merlin was aware of was the fact that everything was blurry. The second was that he was still lying on the ground. Obviously something was wrong, because he was pretty sure that the afterlife wasn't supposed to be so uncomfortable. He was also pretty sure that it wasn't supposed to hurt, and yet for some reason he had a headache. That fact left him more than a little confused, because if he was in pain, then clearly he wasn't dead, but he knew for a fact that he had been dying…so then why was he still alive?

The warlock slowly blinked his eyes a few more times until he could see something other than just blurry shapes and colors, and once he was satisfied, he slowly turned his head to figure out where he was. He didn't get very far, because his eyes immediately came to rest upon the one person who always managed to draw his attention, who more often than not seemed to encompass his entire world.

Arthur was still there, right by his side, exactly as he had been. He hadn't left him.

"Arthur?" he called out, his voice barely anything more than a whisper, but the prince heard him nonetheless, and soon enough he found not just one but four sets of eyes staring down at him in an odd mixture of surprise, relief, and barely concealed joy.

"Merlin," he heard Arthur sigh in a voice that could only be described as fond. "Welcome back."

"Thanks."

Slowly the warlock began to try and sit up, struggling a bit until both Gwaine and Arthur lent him a hand. The movement made him a bit dizzy at first, but eventually he managed to sit up on his own without needing someone to support him. He took a few moments to catch his breath before turning back to Arthur. There was something he needed to ask him, and from the look on his face, he could tell that Arthur was already anticipating his question. It was obvious that he was expecting to be asked about what had happened, but there was only one thing that Merlin needed to know.

"She's gone, isn't she."

In the end it wasn't even really a question, and Arthur's expression alone told him everything he needed to know. _So…not a dream then._

Eiwyn really had sacrificed herself in order to save him.

"How did you know?"

"I felt it." He wasn't sure how else to describe it. The moment her magic had connected with his own, he had been able to see all of it, to hear and feel and _understand_. In her final moments, she had had no regrets.

"I'm sorry…" Arthur began, and even though he didn't know what the prince was going to apologize for, he knew that he didn't need to hear it.

"Don't be. It's alright."

He wasn't sure if he truly believed that, if he agreed with the choice that Eiwyn had made, but dwelling on it wouldn't do them any good. They couldn't change the past. However, it didn't change the fact that a part of him felt as though he had failed in some way. He hadn't wanted things to turn out like this.

He had wanted to save her.

_You did._

The warlock's eyes went wide, those two words echoing through his head in a way that had long since become familiar.

_Oh, Merlin…you truly are one of the most incredible people that I have ever met._

"…Rhoshad?"

As if in reply, the clouds finally dispersed and sunlight streamed into the courtyard. It bounced off the cobles and chased away the shadows, and when it reached the center of the tiny haven, the sacred tree that had stood tall and proud for hundreds of years caught the light and gleamed in a way that put even the finest of jewels to shame. Its bark shown like gold, the leaves glittering like silver and crystals in the sunlight, but what truly had them all enraptured was the sight of a young man with rust colored hair and eyes like jade sitting at the base of the tree, nestled safely between its roots with a girl garbed entirely in white asleep in his arms.

Not one of them moved, too caught up in the image before them, but if there was one thing Merlin had learned through all his interactions with the sorcerer, it was that Rhoshad always seemed to know exactly what needed to be said. He smiled at the five of them, his arms tightening just a bit around his precious burden.

"_I don't know how I could ever begin to thank you for this,"_ he said, his voice echoing throughout the courtyard, carried by the wind. _"I'll look after her this time, I swear it."_

"_We'll meet again one day, and when we do, I promise I'll return the favor."_

There was a sudden gust, a reflection of the sunlight, and just like that they were gone, but Merlin was certain that he had heard one last whisper through his mind, a soft but genuine _thank you_ that carried more meaning than he could ever hope to understand. Somehow, he got the feeling that the rest of them had heard it too, and just like that, the rest of his doubts were stripped away.

Regardless of whether it was right or not, these were the paths they had chosen to walk, and that was more than enough.

Merlin turned to look at Arthur just as the prince turned to him, and the warlock couldn't help but smile. It was finally over. After everything that had happened, they were free.

There was just one thing left to do.

"Come on," Arthur said, clasping the warlock's hand in his own and pulling him to his feet (and if the prince ended up turning that simple gesture into a brief, barely-even-there embrace, well, that was just fine. Merlin certainly wasn't going to call him on it). "Let's go home."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the ending. I tried :)

Anyway, again, thank you so much to everyone who has bothered to read this fic. It means a lot, and I hope that it was worth the time put into reading it. I never expected this fic to end up quite this long or to do this well, but I'm glad it did, so thank you for making this writing experience that much more enjoyable for me :)

So, a lot of people have asked for a squel. I honestly don't know if I can write one. I have absolutely no ideas for one whatsoever (which is rare for me, 'cause it usually doesn't take much to spark inspiration), but I shall consider it. Keep in mind that I also said I would write a squel for Healing Spells, and that has yet to happen. I have so many other ideas I want to work on that if I did write a sequel, it might be a year in the making. However, it isn't an impossibility. It'll all sort of depend on how things go and whether I take my sister's advice and start working on an actual novel. That being said, I don't intend to disappear from this section, and I also promise that it won't be five months again before I post something new...or at least I hope not. I'll try my best :)

Until the next time!


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